A TREATISE OF THE DIFFERENCE BBTWIXT THE TEMPORAL AND ETERNAL: Composed in Spanish BY Eusebius Nieremberg, S. J. Translated into English By Sir VIVIAN MULLINEAUX, Knight.  
And since Reviewed according to the tenth and last Spanish Edition.  
Printed in the Year, 1672.   

TO The Most Excellent Majesty OF CATHARINE QUEEN OF GREAT BRITAIN.  
MADAM,  
THe design of this Treatise is no other, than what all must own to be the great business, and general concern of mankind, which is, to be well read in the difference between things temporal and eternal. This is the Subject; this the Title of the Book. The original (which hath already passed, there the test of ten Editions) we own to Spain, and to the pious and learned labours of the late Eusebius Nieremberg, who hath often obliged the world by the like fruits of his zealous Pen. After having been read and approved in divers other languages, it hath now learned to speak English, having been lately translated (by a noble and worthy person, Sir Vivian Mullineaux) for the service of the public; and accordingly resolves (if it may be but so happy as to deserve the gracious favour of your Majesty's royal Patronage) to adventure abroad for the benefit of all pious and well-disposed, whether Catholic or Protestant Readers. All which may be here duly informed, as of the difference between things temporal and eternal, so of the different and cautionary ways they ought to pursue in dividing themselves and their hearts between both. Time and Eternity are points of good and wholesome use to all wise and intelligent contemplations. Time indeed got the start of Man at the Creation, and is five days elder than he. Nevertheless Man still lives in hopes, he shall at long-run overtake, and even outlive Time. And this shall be when the general Resurrection shall have restored him to his better and glorified self, and all that is mortal in him shall have put on immortality. 
1 Cor. 15.53.  Man then being like to prove the longer liver of the two, Time cannot (nor indeed any thing that shall perish with Time) be that great end, for which Man was finally ordained. That only can be Man's end, which hath none itself; and that is Eternity: a happy Eternity; the last article of our Creed, and the last end of our Creation. Sure then it behoves us to be wary Gamesters, when Eternity is at stake: and not carelessly to throw away our affections at a venture, or heedlessly to engage our hearts, here and there, upon every slight invitation from sense and fancy: but to proceed advisedly in the choice of our object, and in the difference we make between things Temporal and Eternal; This very difference being the nice pin, and ticklish point, which shall unappealably decide the case of all we have to hope or fear in the world to come, by giving sentence at the last day of our final weal or woe. For we are to be judged by our affections; and every man shall stand, or fall by the verdict of his own heart. So that the main point, which shall difference our dooms, is the different applications we make to things temporal, or eternal, causing this man's lot to fall to the right hand, the others to the left. MADAM, this address is far from pretending to the usual Panegyric strain, in complementing the great name, whose Patronage it implores: or enlarging upon those truly-Christian, and Princely accomplishments, (your great and eminent virtues,) which more adorn your Majesty, than Majesty can your Person. These are a subject for a higher undertaking, than this small Dedicatory dares pretend to. Only, with your Majesty's permission, thus much I shall make bold to say, that your heroic and exemplar piety, attended with so many other rich endowments of grace, clearly speaks you Mistress of a Soul throughly acquainted with the Difference between things temporal and eternal. Hence it is, that none of the most courting allurements of this life, however great in themselves, can seem truly such to your greater heart. Your Christian ends and designs take a nobler flight: they are not limited to the narrow bounds of a visible Sphere; they act upon motives fetched from another world, and harbour not a thought, which can sit down, and fix on this side Eternity. Though I love not to be paradoxical, yet methinks the Prophet Daniel hath a word of comfort and encouragement for your Majesty, even where it might be least expected from the outward letter, to countenance the application. 
Dan 12.3.  They that instruct many to righteousness, shall shine as the stars for ever and ever. So speaks this great person, and Oracle of Judah. Here is a boundless promise, and Heaven stands engaged for the performance; not only the single happiness of shining like the stars for ever: but the double blessing of for ever, and ever. I humbly conceive, this so highly-rewardable teaching and instructing others to righteousness, may, without violence to the Text, be taken in a twofold sense. For, not only the useful and practical Doctrines of the Divinity-chair, the Preacher, and the Man of elocution, but also the pious, though silent deeds of the good Liver, are our Teachers and Instructors. For that person (especially if a public person) instructs well, who lives well: and the good dumb work hath oftentimes more of the persuasive faculty in it, than either pen or tongue can match. This, Madam, is your Majesty's case: this, your, nay our happiness, if we understand it aright. Your life is a noble School of Virtue, and reads us a fair Lecture of a more than ordinary Christianity, far beyond the cold instructions of Book or Pulpit. They only utter words; you speak examples. England hath heard, and the holy Altars have often witnessed the fervour of your Majesty's devotions; whilst you spend whole nights in paying the faithful homage of heart and knee to the greatest of all Majesties, Almighty God. So that the severe duties of Prayer, Watching, Penance, Mortification, frequent Retreats to a more free and undisturbed converse with Heaven, are now adopted Court-Vertues in the sanctity of your Majesty's Royal Person. All which makes me say, that such, and so eminently-instructive a life will (if the Prophet please to lend me his expression) entitle your Majesty not only to one, but (were it possible) to a plurality of Eternity's. Live then, 
So the vulgar Edition renders it, in perputuas aeternitates.  (most pious Princess) live, and be still your great Self; great in Majesty: greater for for piety: and greatest in the contempt of all temporal greatness, compared with eternal. May the same sweet Providence, which hath led up so noble a Merit to a Throne, for a Royal Consort to Sovereignty, long preserve you in your high Orb, there to shine as a leading Pattern of true Virtue and Piety to our Nation. And when our sins shall envy us the happiness of your Majesties longer residence upon earth, and the inexorable Decree shall summon you to pay the common debt, which all of us (Prince as well as Subject) own to the sin of our first Parents, May you then, being translated hence to the embraces of your Creator, experimentally find the true difference between things temporal and eternal, in the blissful vision and fruition of our great All our almighty, all-lovely, all-glorious God; who is all wonders at one sight, all joys and comforts in their source, all blessings in their centre; the end of all labours, the reward of all services, the desire of all hearts, and the accomplishment of all hopes and wishes. May he then be to your Majesty all this, which is here briefly expressed, and infinitely more, which is beyond expression; And may he secure all these blessings to you for ever, and crown them with his glorious Attribute of Eternity. This is the no less hearty, then dutiful prayer of  
MADAM Your Majesty's Most humbly devoted In Christ Jesus J. W.   

A Summary of the Chapters in this Book.  

LIB. I.  
Cap. 1. Our Ignorance of what are the true goods: and not only of things Eternal but Temporal. pa. 1.  
Cap. 2. How efficacious is the Consideration of Eternity for the change of our lives. p. 6.  
Cap. 3. The memory of Eternity is of itself more efficacious than that of Death. p. 12.  
Cap. 4. The estate of men in this life, and the miserable forgetfulness, which they have of Eternity, p. 18.  
Cap. 5. What is Eternity according to St. Gregory Nazianzen, and St. Dionysius, p. 25.  
Cap. 6. What Eternity is according to Boetius and Plotinus. p. 29.  
Cap. 7. Wherein is declared what Eternity is according to St. Bernard. p. 33.  
Cap. 8. What it is in Eternity to have no end. p. 41.  
Cap. 9 How Eternity is without change. p. 52.  
Cap. 10. How Eternity is without comparison. p. 60.  
Cap. 11. What is Time according to Aristotle and other Philosophers; and the little consistence of life. p. 68  
Cap. 12. How short life is, for which respect all things temporal are to be despised. p. 74.  
Cap. 13. What is Time according to St. Augustine. p. 82.  
Cap. 14. Time it the occasion of Eternity: and how a Christian ought to benefit himself by it. p. 89.  
Cap. 15. What is Time according to Plato and Plotinus: and how deceitful is all that which is temporal. p. 98.   

LIB. II.  
Cap. 1. Of the End of Temporal Life. p. 104.  
Cap. 2. Remarkable Conditions of the end of Temporal Life. p. 121.  
Cap. 3. Of that moment which is the Medium betwixt Time and Eternity, which being the end of Life is therefore most terrible. p. 140.  
Cap. 4. Wherefore the End of Life is most terrible. p. 147.  
Cap. 5. How God even in this Life passes a most rigorous Judgement. p. 174.  
Cap. 6. Of the End of all Time. p. 181.  
Cap. 7. How the Elements and the Heavens are to change at the end of Time. p. 185.  
Cap. 8. How the World ought to conclude with so dreadful an End: in which a general Judgement is to pass upon all that is in it. p. 205.  
Cap. 9 Of the last day of Time. p. 213.   

LIB. III.  
Cap. 1. The mutability of things temporal makes them worthy of contempt. p. 228.  
Cap. 2. How great and desperate soever our Temporal evils are, yet hope may make them tolerable. p. 238.  
Cap. 3. We ought to consider what we may come to be. p. 243.  
Cap. 4. The Change of humane things shows clearly their vanity, and how worthy they are to be contemned. p. 253.  
Cap. 5. The baseness and disorder of Temporal things; and how great a Monster men have made the World. p. 261.  
Cap. 6. The Littleness of things Temporal. p. 269.  
Cap. 7. How miserable a thing is this Temporal Life. p. 285.  
Cap. 8. How little is Man whilst he is Temporal. p. 309.  
Cap. 9 How deceitful are all things Temporal. p. 319.  
Cap. 10. The dangers and prejudices of things Temporal. p. 326.   

LIB. iv  
Cap. 1. Of the Greatness of things Eternal. p. 337.  
Cap. 2. The Greatness of the Eternal honour of the Just. p. 347.  
Cap. 3. The Riches of the Eternal Kingdom of Heaven. p. 359.  
Cap. 4. The Greatness of Eternal Pleasures. p. 368.  
Cap. 5. How happy is the Eternal Life of the Just. p. 378.  
Cap. 6. The Excellency and Perfection of the Bodies of the Saints in the Life Eternal. p. 389.  
Cap. 7. How we are to seek after Heaven, and to prefer it before all the goods of the Earth. p. 399.  
Cap. 8. Of Evils Eternal: and especially of the great Poverty, Dishonour, and Ignominy of the Damned. p. 411.  
Cap. 9 The Punishment of the Damned from the horribleness of the place, into which they are banished from Heaven, and made Prisoners in Hell. p. 422.  
Cap. 10. Of the Slavery, Chastisement, and Pains Eternal. p. 429.  
Cap. 11. Of Eternal Death: and Punishment of Talion in the Damned. p. 450.  
Cap. 12. The Fruit which may be drawn from the consideration of Eternal evils. p. 459.  
Cap. 13. The infinite guilt of Mortal Sin, by which we lose the felicity of Heaven, and fall into eternal evils. p. 467.   

LIB. V  
Cap. 1. Notable difference betwixt the Temporal and Eternal; the one being the End, and the other the Means. Wherein also is treated of the End for which Man was created. p. 487.  
Cap. 2. By the knowledge of ourselves may be known the use of things Temporal, and the little esteem we are to make of them. p. 506.  
Cap. 3. The value of goods Eternal is made apparent unto us by the Incarnation of the Son of God. p. 515.  
Cap. 4. The baseness of Temporal goods may likewise appear by the Passion and Death of Christ Jesus. p. 524.  
Cap. 5. The importance of the Eternal, because God hath made himself a Means for our obtaining it, and hath left his most holy Body as a Pledge of it in the Blessed Sacrament. p. 540.  
Cap. 6. Whether Temporal things are to be demanded of God: And that we only ought to aim in our prayers at goods Eternal. p. 553.  
Cap. 7. How happy are those, who renounce Temporal goods for the securing of the Eternal. p. 561.  
Cap. 8. Many who have despised and renounced all that is Temporal. p. 569.  
Cap. 9 The Love, which we own unto God, ought so to fill our souls, that it leave no place or power to love the Temporal. p. 581.    

Faults escaped in the Print.  
P. 8. L. 25. more R. of more P. 46. L. 28. resting R. roasting P. 65. L. 20. knowest R. knewest p. 139. L. 23. are die R. are to die P. 198. L. 27. Borosus R. Berosus P. 200. L. 29. hard R. hardness P. 232. L. 24. Persians R. Assyrians P. 232. L. 26. Assyrians R. Persians' P. 338. L. 10. intention R. intention P. 416. L. 35. the depriving R. in the depriving P. 555. L. 38. know R. knew  
What else may be faulty the Pen may mend.  
Moreover P. 386. L. 35. after those words any thing to maintain it. you may add, if you please, These representations are to be understood as in order to us, or as of what the corporal senses are afterwards to enjoy.  
Other things likewise in several passages may be left to the judicious Reader: who will not be overhasty in rejecting what a discreet and friendly interpretation may allow of.   


THE FIRST BOOK OF THE DIFFERENCE BETWIXT THE TEMPORAL and ETERNAL.  

CAP. I.  
Our Ignorance of what are the true Goods: and not only of things Eternal, but Temporal.  
TO use things aright we ought to know their Value and Estimation; and we cannot give them their true value, unless we know their nature, and what they are; which knowledge is in this world so short and imperfect, that it passes not forth of it, nor enters into the consideration of things Heavenly and Eternal, for which we were created. And it is no wonder, that in Matters of Eternity, being so far removed from our senses, we know so little, since we are ignorant even in Temporal things, which we see and daily touch with our hands. How can we comprehend the things of the other world, when we know not those of this wherein we are? and even to that stupidity can humane ignorance arrive, that we know not what we presume to be best acquainted with, the riches, commodities, honours, and goods of this world, with which mortal men so much converse, and which they so much covet; for that they covet them, because they know them not.  

Clem. Roman. in Epit.  Good reason had St. Peter, when he taught St. Clement the Roman, that the world was like a house filled with smoke, wherein nothing could be seen cither within or without, the smoke hindering the distinct sight of both. After the same manner it happens unto those, who live in this world; they neither know what is without it, nor what within it; they neither know the greatness of what is eternal, nor the baseness of what is temporal; and being ignorant of both for want of knowledge mistake their value, giving what is due unto one unto the other; making that small account of things heavenly and eternal, which they ought to do of things fading and transitory, judging so contrary unto truth, 
Lib. 8. mural. c. 12.  that as St. Gregory notes; they take the banishment of this life for their home, the darkness of humane wisdom for light, and this wand'ring peregrination here for their rest and abode; all which proceeds from ignorance of the truth, and the small consideration of what is eternal; in such manner as they qualify what is good with the name of bad, and what is bad with the name of good; by reason of which confusion in humane judgement David asked of the Lord, that he would give him a Master who might instruct him, which is the true good, saying, Who shall teach us what is good?  
The world is therefore ignorant of all things, even of its own proper goods, which it most enjoys; it faring with us, as it did with the Children of Israel, who having Manna in their sight, and holding it in their hands, yet knew it not, but demanded, What is this? but unto us even that curiosity is wanting: we inquire not so much as what these riches are, for which mortal men hazard so many dangers of death; what honours are, for which men's hearts burst with envy and ambition; what pleasures are, for which we endanger our health, and often lose our lives; what the goods of the earth are, which are only enjoyed during our pilgrimage, in the exile of this life, and are to vanish at the entrance of the other, as Manna did at the entrance of the Land of Promise. With reason did Christ our Redeemer in Apocalyps call it the hidden Manna, because the Hebrews holding it in their hands, knew not what it was: even so are the things of this life hidden unto our understandings, which although we touch, we know not: and so confounding their value, do that for things temporal, which we only ought to do for the eternal, undervaluing these for the esteem of those, which for themselves are worthy to be despised and contemned.  
Hence failing in the knowledge of things, we fail in their estimation, and consequently in their use. That which happens in this, may be likewise seen in those, who did eat Manna; for unto some it caused a loathing, and procured vomit; unto others it tasted pleasantly, and like the meat they most desired. So great difference is there betwixt the good and ill use of things: and the good use of all depends upon their knowledge.  
Let mortal men therefore awake and open their eyes, and let them know the difference betwixt what is temporal, and eternal, that they may give to every thing its due estimation, despising that which time makes an end of, and esteeming that which eternity preserves; the which they ought to seek during this life, and by these momentary things purchase the eternal, unto which they cannot attain without the knowledge both of the one and the other; because aiming at the eternal as that of greatest value, they conserve the temporal, although of itself of no worth, and that which is corruptible and transitory they render firm and durable.  
The Manna also, which our Lord gave unto the Hebrews whilst they wandered in the Desert, and was to serve them until their arrival in the Land of Promise, amongst other mysterious significations which it contained, one was to be a Symbol of the blessings which we enjoy in the peregrination of this life, until we come to the promised land of eternal happiness. For this cause it putrified and corrupted suddenly, lasting but a very short time, as all things of this world do, only that part of Manna, which was gathered with intention to keep for the Sabbath, which was a figure of glory, or to preserve in the Ark to be carried into the Land of Promise, corrupted not, in so much as to gather the same thing with different respects, made that, which in itself was corruptible, to be of a condition eternal, 
Bald. apud Tibra. in Exod. 15  as is well noted by Baldwin an ancient Doctor, and a most learned Interpreter of the holy Scripture. So much it imports to have our intentions elevated and placed upon eternity, as by the use of temporal and transitory things we may gain eternal, converting small things into great, mutable into stable, and mortal into immortal.  
Some Philosophers, who considered better the things of this life, although without attention unto the eternal, found in them many defects; the which the most wise Emperor and Philosopher Aurelius Antoninus reduced unto three, 
In vita sua.  to wit, that they are little, mutable, and corruptible even until they arrive unto their end; all which we shall find represented to life in Manna. The littleness of it was such, saith the holy Scripture, that it was small, like that which is brayed in a Mortar, and reduced into powder; the mutability was so notable, that carrying it from the field where it was gathered into their Tents, if they brought a quintal, 
Vi. Bonfrerium in Exod. 16.  it shrunk and contracted itself into the small measure of a gomer; with some it diminished, and with others swelled and dilated itself into a greater proportion. The corruption of it was so sudden, that it lasted not one day without being wholly putrified and filled with worms; and yet notwithstanding all these qualities, the enjoying and eating of it cost much toil and labour, first in gathering, then grinding, then in cooking, and performing many other duties requisite for the use of it. After the same manner the goods of this life, notwithstanding all their faults and evil conditions, are not obtained, nor enjoyed without much travel and vexation. After this all did not enjoy that quality proper to Manna, which was, to taste like unto that, which he that eat it most desired; for sinners found this taste limited, and not so full and savoury as others. Even so we with our vices alter and diminish the natural sweetness of the things of this life, as we shall see hereafter in its due place. It is true that the appearance of it was good, 
Sept. Interp. in cap. 11. Nun. species illius species chrystalli.  for as the 70 Interpreters say, it was like Crystal, clear and transparent. The same is the condition of the goods of this life, they have the splendour and an appearance, but are really more brittle than glass; they are variable, fading, and inconstant, and subject to a thousand alterations; they are corruptible, transitory, and mortal, and only by reason of their glittering we seek after them, as after things great and eternal.  
Let us then leave the appearance and painted superficies of things, and look upon the substance and truth, and we shall find that what is temporal is small, and what eternal is great; the temporal inconstant, the eternal firm; the temporal short and temporal, the eternal durable, and in fine eternal: and this only were enough to make it more esteemed than the temporal, although the temporal in all other respects did exceed it; but the one being so short and mutable, and the other great, firm and constant, the difference betwixt them can be no less, 
Lib. 7. moral. c. 12.  then as St. Gregory esteemed it, who says; Immense is that which shall follow and without limit, and little is all that which ends. And the same Saint notes, that the small knowledge and memory of eternity is the main cause of the deceiving of Mankind, who have in esteem the false goods of this life, and undervalue those spiritual and eternal of the other; and therefore speaks in this manner: 
Lib. 8. moral ca 12.  The thoughts of the predestinated always have their intentions placed upon eternity, although they possess great felicity in this life, and although they be not in danger of death, yet ever look upon it as present: to the contrary do obstinate souls, who love this temporal life, as a thing permanent, because they consider not how great is the eternity of that which is to come; and not considering the solidity of the eternal, they judge this Banishment for their Country, this Darkness for Light, and this Race for their Station; for those who know not greater matters, are not able to judge of the smallest. We therefore will begin to draw the Curtain, and from the consideration of Eternity, and the lose condition of time discover the distance betwixt the goods of heaven and those of earth; from whence we shall come to handle the baseness of the temporal, and greatness of the eternal. Wherefore as a Philosopher said of light, that there was nothing more clear, nor nothing more obscure: the same may be said of time and eternity, which being held no less perspicuous, are ill understood, and are no less obscure and dark then the other. But we shall endeavour to make them more intelligible, being assisted by the light of Faith, the doctrine of Saints, and wisdom of the Philosophers.   

CAP. II.  
How efficacious is the consideration of Eternity for the change of our Lives.  
THe thought of Eternity St. Augustine calls a Great thought, 
Augus. in Psal. 76. Magna cogit.  because the memory of it is of great joy unto the Saints, and no less horror unto Sinners, and unto both of much profit and concernment: it causes us to do great matters, and shows the smallness of the fading and transitory things of this earth. I will therefore from this light begin to discover the large field of the poverty, trumpery, and baseness of the temporal, and recommend the consideration of the eternal, the which we ought still to have in our thoughts, as David had perpetually in his; in whom whilst he was a Sinner, it caused horror and confusion, and being a Saint, it comforted and encouraged him to be yet more holy, drawing from this meditation most spiritual and incomparable profit unto his soul; and therefore in his Psalms he so often repeats the memory of it, not only in the body of them, but almost in every passage, saying, for ever, or eternally, or world without end: there being no inscription or title which he uses more frequently than this, against the end, or in the end, because he composed them with the consideration of eternity, which follows the end of this life; and for more clearness adds in some of them, against the end: for the Octave; which according to St. Augustine signifies Eternity, that being the octave after the 7 days of the week, into which all time is to resolve, which 7 days being past, there are to be no more weeks, but, as St. Peter says, one only day of perpetual Eternity.  
In this Eternity therefore did the Prophet employ his thoughts by day, and his meditations by night; this forced him to send up his voice unto Heaven, and to cry out unto God; this made him mute, and took away his speech with men; this astonished him and made his pulses fail with the consideration of it; this affrighted him, and mingled wormwood with the pleasures of this life; this made him know the littleness of all that is temporal, and made him enter within himself, and examine his conscience: Finally, this brought him to a most miraculous change of life, beginning to serve the Lord with more fervour; all which effects proceeding from the thoughts of Eternity are apparent in the 76 Psalms; therefore says he amongst other things, Mine eyes prevented the watches, I troubled myself and spoke not: immediately after he gives the reason, saying, I thought upon the days of old, and had in my thoughts the years of eternity, and meditated on them by night with my heart. This thought was the occasion of his long watches; on this he meditated before the Sun was risen, and on this many hours after it was set, and that with so great astonishment of what Eternity was, that his spirit ●●iled him, and he trembled with the lively apprehension of what it was, either to perish eternally in Hell, or to enjoy a blessedness for ever in Heaven. And it is no marvel though this great thought of Eternity should make so holy a King to tremble, when as the Prophet Abuc●ch says, the highest hills of the world bow down and quake at the ways of Eternity. 
Damas'. in vita ejus.  The holy youth Josaphat at the representation of Eternity, Hell being placed on one side, and Heaven on the other, remained astonished & without strength, not being able to raise himself in his bed, as if he had been afflicted with some mortal sickness.  
The Philosophers more barbarous, and who had less light, were yet daunted with the conception of it, and in their Symbols made choice of things of the greatest of terror to express it: some painted it in the form of a Basilisk, a Serpent the most terrible of all other, who kills with his only sight; there being nothing more horror, than that eternity of torments, whereinto we are subject to fall. Conformable to this St. John Damascen represented eternal duration under the figure of a fierce Dragon, which from a deep pit lay waiting with open jaws to swallow men alive. Others figured it by a horrible and profound Cavern, which at the entrance had four degrees, one of iron, another of brass, the third of silver, and the last of gold, upon which many little Children of several sexes and ages stood playing and passing away the time, without regarding the danger of falling into that bottomless dungeon. This shadow they framed not only to set forth how worthy Eternity was of their fear and amazement, but also to express their amazement at the folly of men, who laugh and entertain themselves with the things of this life, without remembering that they are to die, and may then fall into the bottomless abyss of Hell. Those children who were playing at the entrance of that dismal cave, being no other than men in this life, whose employments are but those of children, and who being so near their death, and therefore unto Eternity which succeeds it, have neither fear, nor care to leave the pleasures and vain entertainments of this world. Truly it is a thing of great amazement, that being in expectation of two such extremes, as are eternal glory, and torments without end, we live as if there were neither. The reason is, because men set not themselves seriously to consider what Eternity is, which is either hell whilst God is God, or glory without end. For this cause it is, that they remain as settled and obstinate in their fading pleasures, as if they were immortal: the which was signified by these degrees of so hard Metals. But in David, who seriously meditated and framed a lively conception what the eternity of years was, it caused so great a fear, and so awaked his spirits with care and diligence, that it produced in him an extraordinary change of life: in so much as he said with great resolution within himself, Now I begin. This is a change from the right hand of the most high. Now I begin, 
Comment. in Psal. 76.  as Dionysius declares it, to live spiritually, to understand wisely, to know truly, perceiving the vanity of this present world, and felicity of the future, reputing as nothing all my life past, nor all the progress I have hitherto made in perfection. I will henceforth seriously take to heart with a new purpose, a new fervour, and a a more vehement endeavour the paths of a better life, and entering the way of spiritual profit begin every day afresh. And because he knew his heart to be so much changed, he confessed his resolution to be miraculous, saying, This change is from the hand of the most high; as if he had said, according to the same Dionysius, to have in this sort changed me out of the darkness of ignorance into the splendour of wisdom, from vices unto virtues, from a carnal man unto a spiritual, is only to be attributed to the aid, and most merciful assistance of God, who by the knowledge of Eternity hath given so notable a conversion unto my heart. This great thought of Eternity doth mightily enlighten the understanding, and gives us a true and perfect knowledge of things as they are. For this cause in some of the Psalms which David made with this consideration, as we have already said, he added this word understanding, 
Psalm 6.  or for the understanding, that is, to give understanding to those, who meditate upon the end of this life, and the eternity of the other, and therefore despise the goods of the world.  
By the experience of what happened unto his own soul the Prophet exhorts all men, that they meditate with quietness and leisure upon the eternity of the two so opposite conditions which hereafter expect them, that they may not only run, but fly unto with profit, and suffer with patience all the difficulty, which attend upon virtue: and therefore with great mystery promises on the part of God unto those, who shall sleep between the two lots, that is, unto those, who in the quietness of prayer shall meditate upon the eternity of glory, and of hell, that there shall be granted unto them the silver wings of the Dove, and her shoulders of gold, because the spiritual life consists not only in the actions of our own good works, but also in the patiented suffering the evil works of others; in lifting up ourselves from the dirt of this earth, and and flying towards Heaven, by performance of the Heroical and precious acts of virtue, and not yielding unto the troubles and afflictions of this life which oppress us. All which is by a lively conception of Eternity effected with great merit and perfection; and for this reason did the Prophet express it by the similitude of those things which men esteem the most precious, as of gold and silver. But because to suffer is commonly more difficult then to do, and consequently more meritorious, although both be very precious, for this cause he said that the shoulders should be of gold, and the wings of silver. This also did the Patriarch Jacob hold for so singular a good, that he gave it unto his son Isachar for a blessing, telling him that he should lie down betwixt the two borders, that is, that he should at leisure meditate upon the two extremes of happiness or misery eternal. For this reason he calleth him a strong beast, as having the strength of mind to overcome the difficulty of virtue, to support the troubles and burdens of this life, to suffer the scorns and disgraces of the world, to undergo great penances and mortifications, by considering the two eternal extremes which attend us.  
And not only amongst Saints, but amongst the Philosophers, did the quiet and calm consideration of Eternity produce a great love and desire of things eternal, and as great contempt of all which was temporal, even without looking upon those two so different extremes, which Christian Religion proposes unto us. Seneca complained much, that he was interrupted in the meditation of Eternity, into which he was wholly absorbed, his senses suspended and tied up as it were in a sweet sleep, by the content which he received from that consideration. 
Seneca Epist. 22.  I delighted myself, says he, amongst other things to inquire into the Eternity of Souls, and believing it as a thing assuredly true, I delivered up myself wholly over unto so great a hope, and I was now weary of myself, and despised all that remained of age, though with perfect and entire health, that I might pass into that immense time, and into the possession of an eternal world. So much could the consideration of Eternity work in this Philosopher, that it made him to despise the most precious of temporal things, which is life. Certainly amongst Christians it ought to produce a greater effect, since they not only know that they are to live eternally, but that they are either to joy, or suffer eternally according unto their works and life.   

CAP. III.  
The Memory of Eternity is of itself more efficacious than that of Death.  
ANd therefore it shall much import us to frame a lively conception of Eternity, and having once framed it, to retain it in continual memory, which of itself is more efficacious than that of Death; for although both the one and the other be very profitable, yet that of Eternity is far more generous, strong, and fruitful of good works: for by it did Virgins preserve their purity, Anchorites perform their austere penances, and Martyrs suffered their torments, the which were not comforted and encouraged in their pains by the fear of death, but by the holy reverence and hope of Eternity, and the love of God. It is true the Philosophers, who hoped not for the immortality of the other life as we do, yet with the memory of death retired themselves from the vanity of the world, despised its greatness, composed their actions, and ordered their lives according to the rules of reason and virtue. 
Epict. c. 28. apud S. Hier. in ca 10. Math.  Whereupon Epictetus advises us always to have death in our minds; so (says he) Thou shalt never have base and low thoughts, and desire any thing with trouble and anxiety. And Plato said, that by so much man were to be esteemed wiser, by how much he more seriously thought of death: and for this reason he commanded his Disciples, that when they went any journey, they should go barefoot; signifying thereby, that in the way of this life we should always have the end of it discovered, which is death, and the end of all things. But Christians who believe the other life, are to add unto this contemplation of death the memory of Eternity; the advantages whereof are as far above it, as things eternal above those which are temporal. The Philosophers were so much moved with the apprehension of death, because with it all things of this mortal life were to end, death being the limit whereunto they might enjoy their riches, honours, and delights, and no further; others desired to die, because their evils and afflictions were to die with them. If then death amaze some only because it deprives them of the goods of this life, which by a thousand other ways use to fail, and which of themselves even before the death of the owner are corruptible, dangerous, and full of cares: and if others hope for death only because it frees them from the evils of life, which in themselves are short and little, as all things temporal are, why should not we be moved by the thought of Eternity, which secures us goods great and everlasting, and threatens us with evils excessive and without end? Without doubt then if we rightly conceive of Eternity, the memory of it is much more powerful, then that of death: and if of this wise men have had so great an esteem, and advised others to have the same, much more ought to be had of that of Eternity. Zenon desirous to know an efficacious means how to compose his life, bridle his carnal appetites, and observe the laws of virtue, had recourse unto the Oracle; which remitted him unto the memory of death: saying, Go to the dead; consult with them, and there thou shalt learn what thou demandest: There seeing the dead possess nothing of what they had, and that with their lives they had breathed out all their felicity, he might learn not to be puffed up with pride, nor to value the vanities of the world. For the same cause some Philosophers did use to drink in the skulls of dead men, that they might keep in continual memory that they were to die, and were not to enjoy the pleasures of this life, although necessary, unless alloid by some such sad remembrance. In like manner many great Monarches used it as an Antidote against the blandishments of fortune, that their lives might not be corrupted by their too great prosperity. Philip King of Macedonia commanded a Page to tell him three times every morning; Philip thou art a man, putting him in mind that he was to die, and leave all. The Emperor Maximilian the first, four years before he died, commanded his Coffin to be made, which he carried along with him whither soever he went, which with a mute voice might tell him as much; Maximilian thou art to die, and leave all. The Emperors also of the East, amongst other Ensigns of Majesty, carried in their left hand a book with leaves of gold, which they called Innocency, the which was full of earth and dust, in signification of humane mortality, and to put them in mind hereby of that ancient doom of Mankind, dust thou art, and into dust thou shalt return. And not without much conveniency was this memorial of death in the form of a book, nothing being of more instruction and learning, than the memory of death, being the only School of that great truth, where we may best learn to undeceive ourselves. With reason also was the book called Innocency. For who will dare to sin, that knows he is to die? Neither were the Emperors of the Abissins' careless herein; 
Nicol. God. lib. 1. de rebus Abiss. ●a. 8.  for at their Coronations amongst many other Ceremonies, there was brought unto them a vessel filled with earth, and a dead man's skull, advertising them in the beginning, that their Reign was to have a speedy end. Finally, all Philosophers agreed in this, that all their Philosophy was the meditation of death.  
But without doubt the contemplation of Eternity is far beyond all Philosophy: it is a greater matter and of far more astonishment for the torments of Hell to last for ever; then for the greatest Empires suddenly to have an end: more horrible to suffer eternal evils, then to be deprived of temporal goods: greater marvel that our souls are immortal, then that our bodies are to die. Wherefore Christians, especially those who aim to be perfect, are rather to endeavour in themselves a strong conception of Eternity, then to stir up the fear of death, whose memory ought not to be needful for the contempt of what is temporal, since the first step unto Christian perfection (according to the Counsel of Christ) is to renounce all that we possess of earth, that being so freed from those impediments of Christian perfection, we may employ ourselves in the consideration and memory of that Eternity which expects us hereafter, as a reward of our holy works, and exercises of virtue. This horrid voice, Eternity, Eternity, is to sound often in our hearts; Thou not only art to die, but being dead, eternity attends thee. Remember there is a Hell without end, and fix it in thy memory, that there is a Glory for ever. This consideration, That if thou shalt observe the Law of God, thou shalt be eternally rewarded, and if thou break it, thou shalt suffer pains without end, will be far more powerful with thee, then to know that the goods and evils of this life are to end in death. Be mindful therefore of Eternity, and resound in the inmost part of thy soul, Eternity, Eternity. For this the Church when it consecrates the Fathers of it, which are Bishops, puts them in mind of this most powerful and efficacious memory of Eternity, bidding them think of eternal years, as David did. And in the assumption and consecration of Popes they burn before their eyes a small quantity of flax, with these words; Holy Father, so passes away the glory of the world, that by the sight of that short and transitory blaze, he may call to mind the flames eternal. And Martin the fifth for his imprese and devise took a flaming fire, which in short time burnt and consumed a Pope's Tiara, an Imperial Diadem, a Regal Crown, and a Cardinal's Hat, to give them to understand, that if they complied not with the duties of their places, they were in a short time to burn in the eternal flames of hell; the memory whereof he would preserve ever present by this most profitable Symbol.  

§. 2.  
The name of Isachar, whose Blessing from his Father was (as we have formerly said) to lie down and rest betwixt the two limits of Eternity, signifies him That hath a memory, or The man of reward or pay; The Holy Ghost by this mystery, charging us with the memory of eternal rewards. And the Lord to show how precious it was in his divine esteem, and how profitable for us, caused this name of Isachar to be engraven in a precious Amethyst, which was one of those stones worn by the Highpriest in the Rational, and one of those also rcvealed unto St. John to be of the foundation of the City of God. By it, saith St. Anselme, is signified the memory of Eternity, which is the most principal foundation in the building of all perfection. Truly, if we consider the properties of this stone, they are so many marks, and properties of the memory of Eternity, and of the benefits which that soul reaps, 
Albert. Mag. Milius & Ruiz. v. Cesium de Min. lib. 4. p. 2. cap. 14. sect. 14.  which seriously considers it. The Amethyst cause Vigilancy. And what requires it more, than the passage betwixt the two extremes of eternal glory, and eternal pains? What thing in the world ought to awake us more, than the danger of falling into hell fire? How could that man sleep, which were to pass over a narrow plank of half a foot broad, which served as a bridge betwixt two most high rocks, the winds impetuously blowing, and he, if his foot slipped, certain to fall into a most vast abyss? No less is the danger of this life. The way by which we are to pass unto Heaven is most straight, the winds of temptations violent, the dangers of occasions frequent, the harms by ill examples infectious, and the deceits of wicked Counsellors very many. How then can a Christian sleep and be careless in so evident a peril? Without all doubt it is more difficult to be saved, considering the depravedness of our nature, and the deceitful ambushes of the Devil, then for a heavy man to pass over a heady and rapid river upon a small and bruised reed.  
They say also of the Amethyst, that besides the making him watchful who carries it, it frees him from evil thoughts; which how can that man have who bears Eternity in his mind? how can he think upon the short pleasures of his senses, who considers the eternal torments due unto his soul, if he shall but consent to the least mortal sin? The Amethyst also resists drunkenness, preserving him that wears it in his senses and judgement; and there is nothing that more preserves a man's judgement in the midst of the wine of delights in this life, than the memory of the other, and that for the pleasure of one moment here he is not only to suffer for hours, for days, for months, for years, but for worlds, and a world of worlds hereafter. The Amethyst besides this preserves the wearer from the force of poison. And what greater Antidote against the poison of sin, then to remember Hell, which he deservs, and Heaven, which he loses by committing it? The Amethyst also quiets a man, and settles his thoughts. And what can be more efficacious to free us from the disturbance of this life, to bridle the insolence of covetousness, to repress the aspiring of ambition, then to consider the blessings of Eternity, which attend the humble and poor in spirit? Finally, the Amethyst conferrs fruitfulness; and this great thought of Eternity is fruitful of holy works. For who is he that considers with a lively faith, that for a thing so sleight and momentary he may enjoy the reward of eternal glory, and will not be animated to work all he is able, and to endure and suffer what shall happen for God Almighty and his Cause? O how fruitful of Heroical works is this holy thought, Eternal glory expects me! the Triumphs of Martyrs, the Victories of Virgins, the Mortifications of Confessors are the effects of this consideration. O holy thought! O precious Amethyst, that makes vigilant and attentive the negligent and careless: that gives wisdom and judgement to the most deceived: that heals those, who are most ulcerated, and corrupted with the poison of sin; that quiets and pacifies the motions and troubles of our concupiscences; that makes the most tepid and barren of virtues fruitful of holy works; who will not endeavour to obtain and fix thee in his Soul? O that Christians would so grave thee in their heart, that thou mightest never be blotted out nor removed from thence. How differently would they then live to what they now do? how would they shine in their works? for although the memory of Hell, Heaven, Death, and Judgement be very efficacious for the reformation of our lives, yet this of Eternity is like the quintessence of them all, and virtually contains the rest.    

CAP. IU.  
The Estate of Men in this life, and the miserable forgetfulness which they have of Eternity.  
BEfore we come to declare the conditions of Eternity, whose consideration is so necessary for the leading of a holy and a virtuous life, let us set before our eyes the forgetfulness and miserable mistakes of the Sons of Adam in a matter of so great importance, living as if Eternity were far off, when as the Philosop says it is not two fingers distant, and every minute threatens them. What divides the Mariner from his death, but the thickness of a plank? What the choleric and hasty man from Eternity, but the edge of a sword? what the Soldier from his end, but the reach of a bullet? what the Thief from the Gallows, but the distance betwixt that and the Prison? Finally, how far is the most healthful and vigorous person distant from Eternity, but as much as death is from life, which often happens suddenly, and aught every moment to be expected? The life of Man is a dangerous passage, wherein he walks upon the brink of Eternity, with a certainty at last to fall into it. How lives he then so wretchedly? He who should walk close unto a great precipice in a path no broader than the breadth of his foot, and that also full of rubs and stumbling blocks, how circumspectly would he look about him, and how carefully would he order his steps? how then is it, that being so near Eternity he is so careless, and lives as if he were out of danger?  

In Histo. Barla. ca 12. in fine.  St. John Damascen excellently declares the fondness and mistakes of men in a most ingenious Parable, wherein he naturally sets forth the state of this life. A certain man, saith he, flying from a furious Unicorn, which with his very roaring made the mountains tremble, and the valleys to resound, not regarding through fear which way he went, chanced to fall into a moult deep pit; but in his fall spreading abroad his arms to catch at something, which might relieve him, happened to light upon the boughs of a tree, which grew out of the side of that pit, whereon he seized with much joy, hoping he had then both escaped the fury of the beast, and the danger of his fall: but looking towards the foot of the tree, he perceived two great Rats, the one white, the other black, perpetually gnawing the root of it, in so much, that it was now ready to fall; looking afterward into the bottom of the pit, he beheld a most deformed Dragon with flaming eyes gazing upon him, and with open mouth awaiting his fall, that he might devour him; then casting his eyes unto that side of the pit where the tree grew, there appeared four poisonful Aspics, shooting forth their heads to by't him. Yet notwithstanding marking the leaves of the tree he might perceive some of them to distil certain drops of honey, with which he was so greatly pleased, that forgetting the dangers, which from so many parts threatened him, he employed himselt wholly in gathering and tasting drop by drop that small quantity of honey, without reflecting or making further account either of the fierceness of the Unicorn above him, of the horribleness of the Dragon beneath him, of the poison of the Aspics aside him, or the weakness of the tree which was ready to fall, and precipitate him into that horrid Dungeon. In this Image we see represented the Estates of men, who forgetful of the perils of this transitory life, give themselves wholly over unto vain pleasures. By the Unicorn is signified death, which even from the hour of Man's birth follows and pursues him; The Pit is the world full of evils and miseries; The Tree is the course of this life; The two Rats, the one black, the other white, which gnaw it at the root, are day and night, which continually seconding one another go by hours and minutes consuming it; The four Aspics are the four Elements, or four Humours, of which we are composed, the which by the excess of any one of them distemper the whole frame of our bodies, and at last destroy it; That horrid and fearful Dragon is the eternity of Hell, which enlarges his throat and jaws to swallow sinners; The small drops of honey are the pleasures and delights of this life; and so great is the diversion which they cause, that men for a short and momentary content consider not the many dangers, unto which they are exposed; and seeing themselves encompassed on all parts by as many dangers of death, as there are ways and causes of dying, which are infinite, and are so many mouths and gates of Eternity, yet notwithstanding solace themselves with the momentary delights of this small drop of honey, which shall at last cause them to disgorge and cast up their entrails for a world without end.  
Wonderful it is, that so great a forgetfulness possesses us, and a matter full of amazement, that we are not moved with so great dangers. How comes it about, that every minute a new day of Eternity dawning upon us we carelessly pass over so many days and months? Let the most strong and healthful person tell me, what one year he is assured of, wherein death may not assault him, and push him headlong into an eternal abyss. But what speak I of a year? what month, what day, what hour, what instant is he sure of? how then can he eat? how sleep in safety? If one should enter into a field full of ambushes and secret traps, whereon if he should chance to set his careless foot, he were in danger to fall upon the points of Pikes or Halberds, or into the mouth of some terrible Dragon, and seeing with his own eyes, that they, who entered with him into the same field, hourly fell into those traps, and appeared no more, should notwithstanding run leaping and dancing up and down without fear or apprehension of any thing amiss, who would not say that man were a fool? Certainly more fool art thou, who seeing thy friends fall daily into the trap of Death, thy neighbour swallowed up in Eternity, thy brother sink into the pit of the Grave, dost yet notwithstanding remain careless and secure, as if the same fate did not attend thyself. Although to die were a thing uncertain, yet for the doubt and danger, that it might happen, thou oughtest to be vigilant, and prepared for it. What oughtest thou then to be, it being so certain, and that early or late thou art to enter in at the gate of Eternity? A marvellous thing it is with what care men provide themselves against dangers, although very uncertain. If they hear that Thiefs are in the way to rob and spoil the passengers, no man passes that way but armed, provided, and many in company: if they understand that the Plague gins to range, what antidotes and conterpests are sought for? if they fear a Famine, every man in time provides himself of corn. How happens it then, that knowing that there is a Death, a Judgement, a Hell, an Eternity, we stand not upon our guards, nor provide ourselves for it? Let us open our eyes and look into the perils which environ us; let us take heed where we set our feet, that we perish not; for the paths of this life are full of dangers. And with reason did Isidorus Clarius compare it to a narrow Bridge, 
Isid. Clar. & juxt. S. Greg.  scarce broad enough to receive our feet, under which was a Lake of black and filthy water, full of serpents, and of ugly and poisonous creatures, which only sustained themselves by feeding on those unfortunate people, who fell from the Bridge; on either side were pleasant Gardens, Meadows, Fountains, and beautiful Buildings: But as it were extreme madness in him, who was to pass so dangerous a Bridge, to entertain himself with gazing upon those Gardens and Buildings, without taking care where he set his foot: so is it as great a fully in him, who is to pass this transitory life, to apply himself to pleasures and delights without taking care of his ways or works. To this Cesarius Arelatensis adds, That the greatest danger of of this Bridge consisted towards the end, where it was narrowest: and this is the most straight passage of Death. Let us therefore, if we intent to gain Heaven, look how we place our feet in this life, lest we misplace them in death, and perish in that Eternity, wherein our life is to conclude. O Eternity, Eternity; how few there are that provide for thee? O Eternity, peril of perils, and (if we miss the mark, whereat we ought to aim) above all dangers, whence comes it that we prepare not for thee? whence comes it that we fear thee not, which art to endure as long as God is God? this present life is but to last a very little time, our forces will fail us, our senses wax dull, our riches leave us, the commodities of the world fly from us, the want of breath make an end of us, and the world at last call us out of it; what then will become of us? we are to be sent into a strange Country for a long time: why do we not forecast what to do when we come thither?  
But that we may the better see this our condition, and so learn to be more cautious, I will relate another Parable of the same St. John Damascen. 
In vita Josaph.  There was, saith he, a City very great and populous, whereof the Inhabitants had a Custom to elect for their King a stranger, who had no knowledge of that Kingdom, and Commonwealth: This King for a year they suffered to do what he list, but that being ended, and he most secure without fear, or apprehension of any thing amiss, thinking he should reign as long as live, they suddenly came upon him, despoiled him of his royal apparel, dragging him naked through the streets, and banishing him into an Island far off, where he came to suffer extreme poverty, not having wherewith to feed or clothe himself, his fortune without thinking on it wholly changing into the contrary, his riches into poverty, his joy into sadness, his dainties into hunger, and his royal purple into nakedness. But once it happened, that he whom they elected was a prudent and a subtle man, and having understood from one of his Counsellors this evil and wicked Custom of the Citizens and their notable inconstancy, grew not proud, and haughty with the Dignity of the Kingdom, which they had conferred upon him; but became careful in providing for himself, that when he should be deposed and banished into that Island, which he every moment expected, he might not as his Predecessors perish with poverty and hunger. The course he took was during his Reign to transport secretly into that Island all the Treasures of the City, which were very great. The year being ended, the Citizens, according to their Custom with his Predecessors, came in an uproar to depose him of his Office and Royalty, and to send him in exile into the Island; whither he went without trouble, having beforehand provided wherewith he might live in honour and plenty, whilst the preceding Kings perished with want and penury. This is that which passes in this world, and the course which a wise man ought to take. That City signifies this world, foolish, vain, and most inconstant, wherein when we think to reign, we are suddenly despoiled of all we have, and sent naked into our Graves, when we least look for it, and are most busy in enjoying and entertaining ourselves with the fading and transitory pleasures of this life, as if we were immortal, without so much as thinking on Eternity, whither we are in a short time to be banished: A Region far off and far removed from our thoughts, whither we are to go naked, and forsaken of all, where we are to perish with an eternal death, and shall only live to be tormented: into a Land of the dead, obscure and dark, where no light enters, but everlasting horror and eternal sorrow inhabits. He is therefore wise, who foreseeing that he is to be despoiled of all he hath in this world, provides for the next, making such use of time in this life, that he may find the profit of it in Eternity, and with the holy works of penance, charity, and alms transports his Treasures into that Region, where he is to dwell for ever. Let us therefore think upon the Eternal, and for it despise the Temporal, and we shall gain both the one, and the other. The consideration of Eternity St. Gregory understood to be figured by the Storehouse well furnished with precious wine, into which the Spouse saith that the Bridegroom brought her, and in her ordained Charity; because, saith he, he who shall with a profound attention consider in his mind Eternity, may glory in himself, saying, he hath ordained in me charity; by which thought he shall better preserve the order of love, loving himself the less, and God and all things for God the more; he shall not make use of the temporal things of this life, not even of those, which are most necessary, but in order to the Eternal.   

CAP. V.  
What is Eternity according to St. Gregory Nazianzen, and St. Dionysius.  
LEt us therefore begin to declare something of what is inexplicable, and to frame some kind of conception of what is incomprehensible, whereby Christians knowing, or (to speak more properly) being less ignorant of what is Eternity, they may have a horror either to commit a sin, or to omit an act of virtue; trembling in themselves, that for matters of so small value, as are those of the Earth, they are to lose things so great and precious, as are those of Heaven. Agrippina perceiving the great lavishness of her Son, who poured out gold and silver, as if it had been water, desirous to reform his prodigality, upon a time when the Emperor had commanded about a quarter of a Million to be bestowed upon some Minion of his, caused that Money, and as much more to be spread upon a Table, and placed where he was to pass, to the end, that seeing with his own eyes the mighty mass of Treasure, which he so wastefully misspent, he might after with more discretion moderate his vast expenses. Truly, the folly and vanity of Man admits no other cure, than to set before his eyes, that for the small and momentary pleasure of a sin committed against the Law of God, he loses and unthriftily casts away that which is to last for ever. For this cause we ought to consider, what it is to have no end, what it is to last for ever, what it is to be Eternal. But who is able to declare this, since Eternity is an immense Ocean, whose bottom cannot be found: a most obscure abyss, wherein are sunk all the faculties of humane understanding: an intricate Labyrinth, out of which there is no issue: a perpetual Present, without what was, or what shall be: a continued Circle, whose Centre is in every part, and Circumference no where: a great Year, which ever gins, and is never ended: finally, that which never can be comprehended, yet ever ought to be pondered, and thought upon. But that we may say something, and frame some conception of it, let us see in what manner the Saints have defined it. St. Gregory Nazianzen knows not what it is, but only what it is not; and therefore says, Eternity is not time, nor part of time; because time, and each part of time pass away, but in Eternity nothing does nor ever shall pass. All the torments, with which a Soul enters into hell, shall after millions of years past torment him as lively, and entirely as at the first beginning; neither shall the joys, with which the just enter into Heaven, ever in the least sort diminish. Time hath this property to draw along with it custom, which at length lessens the sense of what at first was grievous; but Eternity is ever the same, ever entire, in it nothing passes, the pains, with which the damned begin, shall after a thousand ages be the same they were at first; and the glory, which he who is saved receives in the first instant, shall ever appear fresh and new unto him. Eternity hath no parts; all is of a piece; in it there is no diminution, nor lessening. And although the pleasures of this life, which go along with time, are of this condition, that in time they lessen, and that there is no delight in this world, which by long enjoying becomes not troublesome and tedious: and that to the contrary, even griefs and and pains with continuance either grow less, or are absolutely cured; yet far otherwise is the web which Eternity weaves: it is all uniform; in it there is no joy which wearies us, nor any pain which by continuance abates, or becomes less sensible; in so much as Eternity, according to St. Dionysius Areopagita, 
Cap. 10. de divin. nomin.  is the immutability, immortality, and incorruptibility of a thing wholly and altogether existent; a space which perishes not, but is always subsistent after the same manner; and therefore, as the Wise man saith, Wheresoever the tree falls, there it shall for ever remain: if thou shalt fall as an infernal firebrand into the bottom of Hell, there shalt thou be for ever burning whilst God is God; it not being in the power of any to redeem thee thence, nor in thy own so much as to turn from one side to the other.  
Eternity is immutable, because incompatible with change: it is immortal, because not capable of end: and incorruptible, because it cannot suffer diminution. The evils of this life, how desperate of remedy soever, yet want not this comfort, that they are either eased with change, or ended by death, or lessened by corruption. But all this is wanting in eternal evils. The change of pains serves for a refreshment, and the infirm man, how afflicted soever, by turning from side to side receives some ease; but eternal pains shall whilst God is God remain in the same posture, force, and vigour without change at all. If the most pleasant and wholesome food of Manna, only because continual, caused vomiting, and became loathsome; What shall those pains, which shall last for ever? What torments shall they cause, since they are to remain still after the same manner? The Sea hath his ebbs and flows, the Rivers their increases, the Planets their various Aspects, the Year his four Seasons, the greatest Fevers have their relaxations, and the sharpest pain arriving at the height uses to decrease; only eternal torments shall never suffer declination; nor shall the eyes of the damned ever see a change. The plain and even way, which seems most easy, wearies the Traveller, because it wants variety. What weariness shall then the ways of Eternity cause, and those perpetual pains, which can neither change, end, nor diminish? The torments, whereunto Cain entered now five thousand years ago, are after so many ages past still the same they were at first; and what they now are, shall be so many ages more to come; they are measured by the Eternity of God, and the duration of his unhappiness by the duration of the Divine Glory; whilst God lives he shall wrestle with death, and shall immortally continue dying; that eternal death still living, and that miserable life still dying, containing the worst of life, and the worst of death: those wretched Souls living only, that they may suffer torments, and dying, that they may not enjoy comfort, having neither the content of life, nor the end of death; but contrariwise for their greater torment have the pain of death, and duration of life. On the other part behold the happy lot of them that die in Grace: their glory shall be immortal without fear of ending; their happiness immutable without capacity of growing old; their Crown incorruptible without danger of withering: where no day shall pass without joy, whose content shall be ever new, and whose Glory flourish for perpetual Eternity's, and whose happiness shall ever be the same. And that very Glory, which St. Michael was six thousand years ago possessed of, the same he enjoys this very instant, as fresh and new, as the first day, and shall six millions of years to come as new, as now.   

CAP. VI  
What Eternity is according unto Boëtius and Plotinus.  
LEt us now hear the Opinions of Severinus Boëtius and Plotinus two great Philosophers, and the one of them no less a Divine, what they conceive concerning this great Mystery and secret of Eternity. Boëtius defines Eternity to be, 
Lib. 5. de cons. Philosopho.  A total and perfect possession of an indeterminable life: which Definition, although it principally belongs unto the Eternity of God, yet it may-be also applied unto the Eternity of reasonable Creatures: since they also enjoy a total and perfect possession of happiness in an eternal life, never to end. With reason he calls it a possession, for the fullness it hath of joy; possession being the best way of enjoying, the which implies a full Dominion of what it possesses: for he who hath a thing in loan or trust, may be said to enjoy it, but not with that liberty, as he who possesses it. He says moreover, that this possession is total, because it is of all goods and blessings, without missing of any one, and all of them at once, it not being necessary for the enjoying of them, to have them one after another, but altogether. The goods and blessings of this life have not this condition; for although one were Master of them all, yet he could not enjoy them all at once, but successively; some passing away, and others succeeding in their place. The Emperor Heliogabalus, who most desired, and most endeavoured to enjoy them, for all the diligence and haste he used, was hardly possessed of three or four at once: for whilst he was in his Banquets, he could not attend his Masques and Dances; whilst he was in these, he enjoyed not the pleasures of the Shows, and Spectacles of the Amphitheatre; whilst he was present at them, he could not apply himself to Hunting, and Sports of the field; and whilst so employed, he could not satiate himself in Lust and Sensuality: Finally, to enjoy one, he must of necessity quit the other; insomuch as he could neither enjoy all pleasures, those wanting which were enjoyed by others: and of those, which he might enjoy himself, but few at a time. But unto the just in Heaven no blessings or contents are missing, no succession needful for their enjoying, the blessed possessing them all, and all together.  
The possession of this happiness is also perfect in respect of the security it hath, nothing being of force to disquiet it, none to go to Law about it, none to steal it, none to disturb it, and is likewise perfect, because complete; not like the goods of the earth, which cannot be enjoyed entirely: for either the distance of place, the imperfection of the sensible Organ, the mixture of some grief or care, or at least the multitude of Objects, and their own opposition distract the perfect fruition of them. But eternal happiness is by the blessed in its full extension perfectly possessed, the joy of it entirely relished, and the essence and sweetness of it wholly penetrated, and imbibed into the essence of the Soul, the which no mixture of pain, no surprise of grief, no incapacity of the subject, no distance of position, no greatness of the object can hinder: for grief and care have there no place, the subject is elevated above its nature, the object accommodated, and the eternal pleasure and delight of it not proportioned by space and distance. 
●●n. 1. ●●b. 7. 〈◊〉. 1.  Wherefore Plotinus likewise said that Eternity was A Life full and all at once: because in it all that hath life shall be full and complete, the senses with the whole capacity of the soul shall be replenished with all happiness and delight, there being no part o● life in man which shall not be full of sweetness, joy, and content. The life of the hearing shall be full with the consort of most harmonious music; the life of the smell shall be full with the fragrancies of most sweet odours; the life of the eyes shall be full, feeding themselves with all beauty; the life of the understanding shall be full with the knowledge of the Creator; and the life of the will shall be full in loving, rejoicing, and delighting itself in him. Temporal life is not capable of this fullness and satisfaction even in small matters, the attention of one sense hinders that of another, and the attention of the body that of the spirit. This life cannot be here enjoyed but by parts, and that also not completely: but in that eternal felicity the life shall be full, the possession total, and the joy perfect, where all is to live which here can die, where neither the incompossibility of the objects, nor the impediment of the senses, nor the incapacity of the soul shall hinder us from enjoying all blessings together with all our senses, and all our powers jointly. Over and above all this possession, which is so total, so perfect, and so full, is for life without death, a space without limit, a day eternal, which is equivalent to all days, and includes all years, embraces all ages, and excels all times, because in it nothing passes, nor any good of it ever shall pass.  
To the contrary it is with those wretched sinners, whose eternal miseries have the same condition of bad, which the eternity of the blessed hath of good: unto whom their evil shall not be , but in full possession of them, and they shall remain in their torments with all their soul, body, powers, and senses. That is called possession, which is acquired by a corporal and real presence. These then unfortunate sinners are to continue in their torments with all what they have of being, not as in a thing lent or distant from them, but as in a thing so proper, as it can by no possibility be parted or separated from them, nothing being more proper and due, than punishment is to sinners. Wherefore all evils shall take possession of all what they are, their senses, their members, the joints of their bodies, the powers of their soul, their most spiritual faculties shall be possessed by fire, bitterness, grief, rage, despite, misery, and malediction. This possession of those unfortunate creatures shall be total, because of all evils: for no evil can be wanting where there is a concourse and meeting of all torments and unhappiness. In the taste there shall not want bitterness, in the appetite hunger, in the tongue thirst, in the sight horror, in the hearing astonishment, in the smell stink, in the heart pain, in the imagination fear, in every member grief, and in the very bowels fire.  
All evils are therefore to possess the damned, and all totally; their torments being so many, that if they were to suffer them one after another, many years would not suffice to finish them. And this only were sufficient to make their condition most terrible. But above all their unhappiness this is the greatest, that they are to suffer them all at once. The pain in one part of the body is not to hope it should cease in another, the grief of the spirit is not to expect that the fire which burns the flesh should have an end; all evils are to set upon them at once, and all at one clap are to fall upon the heads of the damned. The continuance of one little drop hollows a Stone: and to ruin the world it was enough for God to rain for forty days. What shall then be, when his divine justice shall rain fire, sulphur, and tempest upon the heads of the damned, not for forty days, but whilst God is God? Besides all this they shall not only be possessed by all the the evils, and all jointly at once, but by all of them fully in their whole force and vigour. The sense of them shall not grow less by their multitude, nor dull by their greatness, but shall remain as quick and lively to them all, and shall be as sensible of the rigour of each one of them, as if they suffered but one only: for the fire shall not only penetrate their bones, heart, and entrails, but the fury of it shall search into the very soul, and burn that with immortal flames. The possession of its misery shall be Whole, it shall be Perfect, it shall be Full; Whole, because it shall suffer all sort of evils; Perfect, because it shall suffer them wholly; and Full, because it shall suffer in all the senses, and in all the faculties that are capable of suffering. This estate and life, where we now are, is not to last, or, to speak more properly, this death is not to live; but in the damned, their death shall live as long as God shall have life, and their miseries shall endure as long as God shall have glory.   

CAP. VII.  
Wherein is declared what Eternity is according to St. Bernard.  
ST. Bernard in another manner describes Eternity, saying, It is that which embraces all times, past, 
Serm. 1. in festo Omn. Sancto.  present, and to come: because no days, no years, no ages are able to fill up Eternity: it is that which devours all times▪ possible and imaginable, and yet remains with a stomach unburthened, still greedy of swallowing more: It is said to embrace all time, because it enjoys all that in an instant which is to be enjoyed in all time. Wherefore Marsilius' Ficinus called Eternity an eternal moment: and Lessius said, it was both the longest and shortest of all things. It was longest, because it exceeded all time, and lasted infinite spaces; it was shortest, because it contained all that in an instant, which it was capable of containing in an infinite duration. For as time is a fluid instant, which flies and passes away, insomuch as there is nothing of time in being but the present, which is ever running and changing from one moment to another; so Eternity is a permanent instant, fixed and stable, in which all things remain at once, and are ever existent in the same manner and estate: Before it all times pass, the one succeeding the other, whilst it stands present and perseveres the same unto them all. Time and things temporal are like a Rapid river, wherein the waves run rolling down, each succeeding other in a perpetual vicissitude: But Eternity is like a firm rock, or like the bed of that river, which remains settled and constant in the same place, whilst the waters pass thorough it never to appear again. In the like manner things temporal, without permancy or consistency at all, pass hastily in the presence of Eternity, and never more return to salute the world. And as the Bed of the river, though standing still, contains all the waters which run thorough it, so Eternity embraces all times which passes by it. Eternity may also be compared unto the Centre in a Circle, which being indivisibly one corresponds unto the whole circumference, and equally respects each particular point contained in it. In the same manner Eternity corresponds unto all time, and to each instant of it after a most marvellous way, containing all that in present, which time contains successively in a million of ages, and is an instant equivalent unto an infinity of times, not having one part after another, but the whole extension amassed in one instant, containing all that together in one moment, which is extensible unto infinite distances of time. For as the immensity of God contains in one point all the Divine greatness, which without bound or limit is dilated over all parts real and imaginable, in so much as it contains in one point, as much as in a million of leagues: even so Eternity recollects into one instant all the Divine duration, although extended through an infinite time; which also the reasonable creatures are to participate in the other life for as much as concerns their glory or pain, and after such a manner as they are capable of.  
Whence follows one thing very much to be considered, that those goods unto which Eternity is annexed it makes infinitely better, and that after two manners, and, as we may say, with two infinities; and contrariwise the bad it makes infinitely worse, and that also after the same two manners; The first in respect of the duration which it conferrs, the which is infinite: and every thing is to be esteemed so much the greater, by how much the duration is longer. The content of a day is not so great as that of a week, nor is that equal to the content of a month or year; and as the duration increases, so the value of the pleasure grows higher, in so much as if it last infinitely, it is infinitely to be esteemed. In the like manner of pain, the longer it lasts the worse it is, and if it last infinitely, it becomes an infinite evil, which will infinitely exceed any temporal evil whatsoever, though more in greatness: and that in so high a degree, that if it should be left to one's choice, either to be thrown alive into a burning Furnace, and at the same time to suffer all the infirmities and griefs which Physic knows, and all the kinds of torments which Martyrs have endured, and all the cruel punishments which have been executed upon the most heinous Offender, and all this for the space of 200 millions of years, but then to end and pass no further: or to suffer a Migram, or a Toothache for a whole eternity, certainly he ought rather to choose all those torments together for that time limited, then either of these single pains for ever; because although those exceed this in greatness, yet this would infinitely exceed those in duration. In sum, if those, although excessive, were temporal, and this, though less, were eternal, which would infinitely increase the malice of it, there being hopes that those would at last find an end, but this were without remedy: I dare be bold to think, that the lively apprehension of Eternity, which the damned conceive, is such, that if it were in ones election either to be exempted from all the torments he now endures, and to remain afflicted only with the Stone for an eternity; or to have added unto his own particular torments all those which the rest of the damned suffer in all their senses, but limited for a thousand millions of years, he would choose this last for the lesser evil; at least in reason he ought to choose it: for although those pains were greater, yet they were to have an end, and this of the Stone, though less, was to be eternal.  
Let now those levers and esteemers of transitory pleasures come to a reckoning with themselves. If the torments of hell, though so excessive, were sufferable if they were only temporal, nay to be chosen rather, then so slight a grief, as the Stone, that were eternal, how happens it, that they will not suffer with patience one small grief during the short time of this life in exchange of being freed from the eternal pains of hell fire during the other? If a Giant in time (that we may so speak) hath no bulk or appearance in the presence of a Pigmy in eternity, how comes it then that a Dwarf or Pigmy in time affrights us, and an armed Giant in eternity makes us not tremble? how is it that eternal hell moves us not, and yet we fear a temporal pain? how is it we do not penance for our sins? why have we not patience in our afflictions? why suffer we not all that which can be suffered in this life rather than to suffer one only torment in eternity? The pains of this valley of tears, being they are to have an end, are not to be feared in comparison of those which shall never have it: how contentedly then ought we to suffer here a little, and for a short time, that we may be freed from suffering much hereafter, and for ever?  
What we have considered in evils and afflictions, the same is to be considered in goods and blessings. If one were to enjoy all the pleasures of the senses for a thousand miriads of years, but were to pass no further, we ought to change them all for one only pleasure, that would last for ever. Why then exchange we not one perishing pleasure of the earth, which is to last but for a moment, for all those immense joys, which we are to possess in Heaven for a world without end? All the temporal goods of the world might well be quitted for the securing of only one that were eternal; how is it then that we secure not all the eternal by forbearing now and then one which is temporal? It would infinitely exceed the Dominion of the whole world, so long as the world shall last, to be Lord but of one little Cottage for eternity: time holds no comparison with it, all that is temporal how great soever, being to be esteemed vile and base, and all that is eternal, how small soever, high and precious. And that we may exaggerate this consideration as much as possible, the very being of God himself if it were but for a time, might be quitted for some other infinitely less excellent, which were eternal. And shall then the covetous man satisfy himself with those poor treasures, which death may quit him of to morrow, and perhaps the Thief to day, despising for them the eternal treasure of Heaven? For certain if God should promise as to enjoy the pleasure of one only sense for ever in the next life, we ought for it to part with all the pleasures we have in this: how huge a folly is it then, that promising all those immense joys of Heaven, we will not for all them together part with some of those poor ones on earth?  
The second way, by which Eternity, unto whatsoever it is joined, makes the good infinitely better, and the bad infinitely worse, is because it collects itself wholly into every instant, so that in every instant it makes us sensible of all that, which it is to contain in its whole duration: and being to endure for an infinity, it amasses as it were into every instant a whole infinity of pleasure or pain, every instant being sensible both of what it contains at present, what is past, and what it shall contain in future; So, as a Doctor says, 
Les. de perfec. divi. lib. 4. c. 3.  In Eternity all the good a thing can contain successively in an infinite time, is recollected into one instant, and made perceptible and enjoyable all at once. As if all the pleasures a most delicious Banquet could afford successively by parts, and that in an infinite time, should be resumed all at once, and all that delight should be conferred jointly and together for eternity, certainly this would make it infinitely better, and of more esteem. The same thing Eternity causes in evils and pains, recollecting them in a certain manner into one, and making them sensible all at once; and although they be not all really and actually together, yet it causes them to be apprehended altogether, and so produces in the Soul a grief infinite and without limit. Those than are truly evils, which are totally and every way evils, both in extension, their duration having no end, and in intention, their being and essence having no limit or measure. What afflicted person who considers this can be impatient, since all the griefs of this life have both an end and limit? The greatest temporal evils are but as biting of gnats in respect of the least of those which are eternal: and therefore that we may escape all the eternal, it is not much to suffer one temporal. Let us tremble at the consideration of those two lances of Eternity, those two infinities, whose wounds are mortal, and pierce the damned from side to side: those two unsupportable rocks, which overwhelm and crush whom they fall upon into pieces. All that we suffer here is to be laughed at, a fillip with a finger, a trifle in respect of the eternal, which embraces all times, and with the evils of them all falls every instant upon the head of the damned.  

§. 2.  
Besides what hath been already said, Goods and Evils eternal have this condition, that they are not only qualified and augmented by the future, but also by what is past, although temporal; so as the blessed Souls in Heaven not only enjoy the glory, which they have in present, and that which is to come, but also what is passed even unto those real and true goods of this life, to wit their virtues and good works, with the memory of which they recreate, and congratulate themselves for all eternity: in so much as all goods passed, present, and to come concur in one to fill up the measure of their joy, and the goods of all times even of those of this life are amassed, and heaped up in their felicity. How different from this are temporal goods, since even those, which we possess in present, suffer not themselves to be entirely enjoyed? here is no good which is not alloyed by some want, danger, or imperfection. And if for the present they afford so little content, much less do they for the future, since the security of what we possess is so uncertain, that the fear of losing it often disseasons the present gust. The same fear also robs our remembrance of the comfort of what is past, since we fear to lose that most, which we have formerly taken most pleasure in enjoying.  
On all sides than the eternal goods are much more excellent, unto which we ought to aspire, and strive to purchase them even at the cost of all which is temporal, and in this life as much as may be to imitate the same eternity; the which is to be done by the practice of those three Virtues, which St. Bernard recommends unto us in these words. 
Serm. 1. in Festo Om. Sact.  With Poverty of spirit, with Meekness, and Contrition of heart is renewed in the Soul a similitude and image of that Eternity which embraces all times. For with poverty of spirit we merit the future; with meekness we possess the present, and with the tears of repentance recover what is past. And truly he, who esteems Eternity, hath no more than to exercise himself in the practice of those three Virtues: The first by quitting with spiritual poverty all that is temporal, and changing it for the eternal, not setting his heart upon any thing in this life, that he may find it bettered in the other. For as Eternity does infinitely augment that good or evil, unto which it is annexed, so time diminishes and draws violently after it all that is in it. Things therefore which are to finish, require not much to leave them, and those that are to end in nothing, are to be reputed for nothing. For the second Virtue, a Christian ought with patience and meekness to persist in doing well, and in overcoming the difficulties of virtue, since the slight troubles of this life are to be rewarded with eternal happiness in the other. And who seeing hell open, and the abyss of its evils without bottom, would not bear with patience the rigour of penance, and with meekness suffer the impertinency of an injury, not troubling at all the interior peace of his Soul, but attending wholly even through fire and water to live virtuously and please his Redeemer? who looking upon Heaven, which awaits him, will not be animated to do what is good cheerfully, and to suffer all crosses for God Almighty's sake with fervour and courage? 
Ruffi. nu. 107. & Pelag. libel. 7. n. 28.  Ruffinus relates that a certain Monk coming unto the Abbot Aquilius, complained unto him that he found much trouble and tediousness in keeping of his Cell; To whom the discreet Abbot answered, My son, this proceeds from not meditating on the perpetual torments we are to suffer, nor upon the eternal joy and repose, which we hope for. If thou shouldest seriously but think on that, though thy Cell were filled and swarmed with worms and vermin, and thou stoodst up to the throat in the middle of them, yet wouldst thou persevere in thy recollection without weariness, or trouble. The third Virtue is with tears and grief of Soul to endeavour a recommpence for our sins past, and to satisfy for them with a dolorous contrition, and bitterness of heart, that so the eternity of happiness, which by them was lost, may with repentance be regained: contrition being a virtue so potent, that it repairs what is ruined; and although it is said that what is done hath no remedy, and that there is no power over what is past, yet this most powerful Virtue is able to undo what is done, and to prevail upon what is past, since it takes away our sins, and makes them as if they had never been committed.    

CAP. VIII.  
What it is in Eternity to have no end.  
But all these definitions and declarations of Eternity are not yet sufficient to express and truly set forth the greatness of it; neither is it well understood, as Plotinus notes, what the Authors, who define it, thought of it. That may be rather said, which was said by Simonides the Philosopher, 
Cic. l. 2. de naturae deorum.  who when Hieron King of Sicily entreated him to declare what thing God was, demanded a day's space to think before he gave his answer; the which past, he said he had need of more time to consider it, and required other two days; at the end of those he asked four: which also ended, his answer was, that the more he thought upon it, the more he found he had to think, and knew less how to express it, and that the further he entered into the consideration of it, the more it hid and obscured itself from him. The same may be said of Eternity, the which is an Abyss so profound, that humane understanding finds no footing, but hath still more to consider, the more it ponders. 
De Mist. Theo.  St. Dionysius Areapagita speakiug of God, confesses that it cannot be said what he is, but only what he is not, and beside what he is. In like manner Eternity cannot better be declared then by what it is not, and beside what it is. Eternity is not time, it is not space, it is not an age, it is not a million of ages, but it is more than time, space, or millions of ages. The life wherein thou now art, and which must shortly have an end, is not Eternity: the health which thou at present enjoyest is not Eternal: thy pleasures and entertainments are not Eternal: thy possessions, treasures, revenues are not Eternal: that wherein thou trustest is not Eternal: the goods of this world, in which thou so much delightest, are not Eternal, Thou must leave them all. A far greater thing is Eternity: above Kingdoms, above Empires, and above all felicities. Whereupon Lactantius and other Authors, 
Lact. de falsa rel. lib. 1. c. 2.  not being able to declare it by what it is, declare it by what it is not; some saying it is that, which hath no end: others that, which endures no change: others that, which holds no comparison: which is as much to say, it is that, which is unlimited, immutable, and not proportionable with any thing besides itself. It shall suffice therefore to declare, and as it were Anatomize these three conditions of Eternity, if not to give a perfect knowledge of what it is, yet at least to beget a fear and reverence of that which most concerns us, and withal to create in us a contempt and scorn of all which is Temporal, as being little, limited, and mutable.  

§ 2.  
For the first Condition, 
Ces. dialog. 3.  which is to have no end; Cesarius says, that Eternity is a Day, which wants an evening, because it shall never see the Sun of its brightness set, which is to be understood of the Eternity of Saints; that of sinners being a Night which wants a morning, upon whom the Sun of Glory never shall arise: wherein the damned shall remain in perpetual sadness and obscurity, eternally tormented both in Soul and Body. If he who is sick of a Calenture, though laid upon a soft and downy Bed, thinks each hour of night an Age, and every minute expects and with impatience wishes for the day, how shall it far with those, who, because in this life they slept when they were to watch, shall in the next lie awake for an eternal night in a Bed of burning fire, without ever hoping for a morning? And certainly if there were in Hell no other pain, than to live in that eternal night and sadness, it were enough to astonish and confound all humane understanding. This very condition of wanting end the Ancients deciphered by the figure of a Ring, which, because a Circle, is endless. But with greater Mystery David calls it a Crown, whose roundness also admits no end; thereby signifying according to Dionysius Carthusianus, that an Eternity without end is either to be the reward of our good works, or the punishment of our bad. We ought to tremble at the sound of this voice, without end, for them, who do ill; and to rejoice at this, without end, for them, who do well. It falls not under our capacity, what it is to he without end. We cannot amplify it or exaggerate it so much, but that whatsoever we say we still fall short. 
Bonav. de inf. c. 49.  Wherefore St. Bonaventure pondering with himself in his meditations upon Hell, that if a damned person should every hundred years let fall but only one small tear, and those all to be preserved until that after innumerable Centuries of years they came to equal a Sea, perhaps so many hundred millions of years may be thought to finish Eternity; No: it would but then begin. Let them turn again and keep the same slow tears of that unfortunate sinner, until they have filled another Ocean. Would Eternity then end? No; but then begin, as fresh and new, as the first day. Let them repeat the same, ten, twenty, an hundred times, until an hundred thousand Seas shall fill and overflow. Shall we then find the bottom of Eternity? No; we have not passed the Superficies of it, and it shall still remain as deep, and unsoundable as at first. There are no Numbers, no Arithmetic, that can comprehend the years of Eternity. If the whole Heavens were parchment, and filled on both sides with Numbers, they could not sum up the least part of that, which hath no parts at all, but is in itself whole, entire, and indivisible. No Sea hath so many drops, no Mountain so many grains of sand, as will serve to reckon up the years of Eternity.  
To declare this more amply, I shall relate what happened unto Archimedes. There were some Philosophers of his time, who affirmed that the number of the sands of the Sea were infinite; others that although they were in themselves finite, yet they could not be comprehended under any Number. Archimedes, that he might confute both opinions, composed a most learned and ingenious Book, which he dedicated unto King Gelon; wherein he proved, that although the world were all filled with sand, and that it were bigger than what it is, yet that the multitude of those grains of sands were limited, and might also be reduced under Numbers; and he himself gave the account, to what Number they would arise. Since this Philosopher, Father Clavius did the like; computing how many grains of sand would fill the whole space betwixt the Firmament of the fixed Stars and the Earth, making every grain of sand so little and indivisible, that he allows 10000 of them unto the bigness of a poppy, or mustardseed, and notwithstanding sums up this vast Number within the short space of one line, all not surpassing one Unite, and 51 Ciphers. If then so many millions of millions may be contained in the length of one line, what shall we say of the years in Eternity: since that not only one line, nor one book, nor all the paper in the world, nor all the world from the Firmament downwards filled with the Figures of Arithmetic were sufficient to contain one little particle of it, notwithstanding the multiplication which is made by the adding of every figure? Every cipher which is added, makes the number ten times more than it was, because a cipher put after one Unit makes it ten, the second cipher makes it one hundred, the third one thousand, and in this manner the Numbers go multiplying to an immense Number in a few Figures. Whereby one may conceive that adding one hundred Ciphers it makes the Numbers rise to such a pitch, that it far exceeds the capacity of Man's imagination to conceive it. What then would it be, adding so many Ciphers as could be contained in a parchment as big as the whole Heaven? Yet all this innumerable Number does not equal the least particle of Eternity; which after so many numberless years passed, which at length after how long a time soever must meet an end, would yet remain as if it did but then begin. Let us seriously think how long were that life to be esteemed, which should contain an hundred thousand years; yet we have thought of nothing in respect of Eternity. Let us think of ten times, an hundred, a thousand times as much: still nothing to Eternity; neither have we quitted the least part of it, which is but then beginning. Wherefore Lactantius saith, With what years shall we satiate Eternity, 
Lib. 1. de falsae relig. c. 12.  since it hath no end? It is still beginning, and nothing but a beginning, and therefore may not unsignificantly be thus defined: Eternity is a perpetual beginning, which still continues without end or diminution. Let us abstract from Eternity as many years as there are drops in the Sea, atoms in the Air, leaves in the Fields, grains of sand in the Earth, or Stars in the Heavens, it will yet continue whole and entire. Add as many years unto it, it becomes no greater, nor is further distant from its end; since it admits none, but in each point and instant receives a beginning. Never, never shall it have an end, ever, ever in beginning. Let one imagine, that there were a Mountain of sand which should reach from the Earth to Heaven, and that an Angel after every thousand years should take from it one only grain; how many thousands of thousands of years, and millions of millions would pass before that Mountain became so little, that it would no longer remain perceptible? Let the best Arithmetician, that is, cast up the account, how many years would pass, before that Angel had taken away half of the aforesaid Mountain. This seems a thing endless; but our understanding is beguiled; for it would have an end, and time would come when one half, and even the whole Mountain would be taken away. Finally, there would be a time, when there would be one only little grain remaining: and this also would be removed. But never shall we come to the end of Eternity: and after the consuming of that whole Mountain of sand, nothing would be diminished from Eternity: but the Mountain of Eternity would remain as entire, after millions of millions of Ages were passed, as in the beginning. This seems to have been signified by that of Abacuch, when he said, The mountains of Ages are torn in pieces: and the hills of the world shall be humbled by the ways of Eternity; Because one thousand hills and mountains as big as the whole world, may be consumed a thousand times over, whilst the Eternity of the punishment of sinners pass over them: which Eternity can never make an end of passing; so that those miserable Souls, who suffer in that devouring fire, shall suffer a thousand, and a thousand, and millions of millions of years without coming nearer to the end, than they were the first day.   

§ 2.  
What man would endure to lie upon one side resting before a scorching fire for the space of a whole year? But what speak I of lying burning? Who could endure to be laid in a soft bed upon one side without being permitted to rise or turn unto the other side for the same space? This indeed was a rigorous penance performed by Ezechiel the Prophet at the Commandment of God, who appointed him that he should continue laid upon one side without rising for the space of 390 days. This was a most rigorous penance, but by Divine Grace accomplished by the holy Prophet. If it be then so difficult to lie  upon one side for so short a time as the space of one year, what shall it be for a condemned sinner to lie stretched upon a bed of sire in that eternal night, and sadness of hell, all sorts of evils raining down upon him for a time without end or limit? What Christian is there, who should consider and frame a liveconceit of this, but would become another man? who could take delight in a momentary pleasure of this life, running the danger of those eternal pains in the next? who would dare to sin at the hazard of so great a punishment? O how powerful a remedy were it against the disordered customs of sinners, if they would but settle themselves seriously to think that Eternity hath no end. O that they would think upon this one half hour in a day, or but so much in a week, how quickly would they amend their lives. But this is a thought not to be passed over in haste, but leisurely pondered with attention and profound consideration, meditating within ourselves what Eternity is: that it is that which shall never have an end, never, never. For as that meat which is not chewed, nor concocted in the stomach benefits nothing, so the thought of Eternity without being well ruminated and digested will little advantage us.  
The force of this consideration appears by an accident related by Benedictus Renatus of a certain man vain and vicious, named Fulk; the which, 
Benedict. Renat. lib. 5.  as he was given to all sorts of pleasure and delicacy, would be sure not to want a soft bed, and a large repose. But one night his sleep failing him, tossing and turning from side to side, desiring every moment that day would break, whilst he lay thus awake, this thought came into his consideration, What wouldst thou take to lie in this manner for the space of two or three years in continual darkness, without conversation of friends, or entertainment of thy pleasures? certainly although thou shouldest lie at thy ease, and upon a soft Bed, as thou now dost, yet the trouble would be intolerable. But know that thou art not to departed so cheap out of this life; thou art not to escape hence at thy own choice; at the best that can happen, thou art to lie languishing in thy Deathbed, where thou art to pass many evil and tedious nights, unless perchance thou die suddenly, which will be more; and when thou leavest that Bed and diest, dost thou know what Bed shall then expect thee? what Couch death hath provided for thee? Thy body certainly shall lie upon the hard and cold earth, and be devoured by worms; but concerning the soul, what shall become of it? knowest thou whither it shall go? assuredly according to thy present life it shall go to hell, where a terrible Bed of fire awaits thee, not for a year or two, but for a whole Eternity. There thou art to continue in perpetual darkness, and torments, where a thousand thousand millions of years are not sufficient to satisfy for one of thy unlawful pleasures. There thou shalt never see nor Sun, nor Heaven, nor God. Ay me, Ay miserable me, if this poor want of sleep be so ill to be endured, how shall I suffer the eternal torments of hell? that which now imports me, is to change my course of life; for in this way I now go I am lost for ever. These considerations imprinted so deep a character in his mind of Eternity, that he could not quit the thought of it, until he had resolved to become a Religious man, but would often say with himself, What dost thou here miserable man? thou livest in the world, and the world affords thee no comfort: thou sufferest many things, which thou wouldst willingly avoid, and wantest others, which thou wouldst as willingly enjoy. Thou molestest thyself with the cares of this life, and what reward attends thee for all thy trouble? thou enjoyest no complete pleasure, and if thou didst, it would not last. Seest thou not daily those who die, and enter into Eternity? O Eternity, Eternity, if thou be'st not in Heaven, wheresoever thou art, even in this soft Bed thou art grievous. I will therefore endeavour to assure Heaven, and for a little will not lose much, nor for what is temporal the eternal: and so putting in execution what he had resolved upon, he entered a Religious person into the order of the Cistercians.   

§. 4.  
All our actions are still to be accompanied with this thought, For ever. For ever shall be rewarded that which I do well; and that for ever punished, wherein I grievously offend. With this consideration shall a Christian not only animate himself to do good works, but to do them well. Aelianus writes of Ismenias, 
Lib. 1. Var. Hist. ca 21.  Ambassador from the Thebans unto the King of Persia, that being about to deliver his Embassage, and advertised that before he spoke a word, he was to adore the King, Ismenias thinking this honour too much to be bestowed upon a barbarous Prince, yet seeing no ways to avoid it, fell upon this devise. He took his Ring, which anciently was of great esteem, as signifying the quality, and authority of him that wore it, and pulling it from his finger, let it secretly fall at the King's feet whilst he lay prostrate before them, saying within himself, Not unto thee, but to this Ring. If we in like manner should in all our actions propose unto ourselves Eternity, and wholly respect it, we should find little difficulty in any good work, we went about. Let us therefore fix our eyes and thoughts upon it, which is to be given us for that which may be done in a moment. Blessed be God, who bestows upon us a reward without and for troubles so short, that they scarcely have a beginning. Euripides, a famous Poet amongst the Greeks, complained upon a time, that in three whole days he had made but three Verses, and those not without trouble. Alcestides, another Poet present, answered, For me one day is sufficient to make an hundred Verses, and that with ease. Euripides then replied, It is no marvel, since thy Verses are but for three days, and mine are for ever. In the same manner Zeuxis a most excellent Painter, but above all measure slow, being demanded why he was so tedious in his work, answered, I paint leisurely, because I paint for ever. But certainly he deceived himself; for at this day there is no Picture of his to be seen: and for Euripides many of his works are lost. But no good work of the just shall perish. Neither have we need so much as of a day to gain Eternity. One act of Contrition which is made in a moment does it, and in a moment we gain those joys which shall endure without end. Yet ought we to make use of this consideration of Euripides and Zeuxis, and not only to do good works, but to do them seriously and perfectly well, since we work not for this life, but for Eternity, which ought ever to be in our memory.  
The benefit which David reaped by this consideraration, was a firm resolution to mend his life, and change into a new man, animating himself to a greater observance, and a more high perfection. And so in that Psalm, wherein he says, That he thought upon the days of old, and the years of Eternity, he adds immediately the effect of his Meditation, saying, That he was to begin a new, because the change which he found in his heart, he perceived was from the most powerful hand of God. Wherefore considering that Eternity never ends, but still gins, and that it is wholly a beginning, he determined with such new fervour to give a beginning to a more perfect life, that he would never flag or be dismayed in the prosecution of it; willing in this to imitate Eternity, the which as it is ever beginning, so he would ever begin to deserve it. And what great matter is it, if that, which we are to enjoy or suffer, be ever in beginning, that we should likewise be ever beginning either to deserve the one, or fly the other? Our reward is not to fail us: and therefore there is no reason why we should fail, and grow weary in our service and endeavours. Our joy is ever to begin: Why should not then our endeavours be ever in beginning? The repose we hope for shall never have an end: Why should then our deservings ever cease? With this considederation St. Arsenius much profited himself, making account that although he had served God many years in a most holy life, yet that he did but then begin, repeating often that Speech of David, Now I begin, Now I begin. We ought never to look back upon our labours past, but still to animate ourselves to labour anew for God and his Service: as did the Apostle St. Paul, who says of himself, 
Philip. 3. Vide Masuet. in vita St. Pauli.  That he did forget what was past, that he did enlarge his heart and mind, extending it for that which was to come; the which the Apostle spoke in a time when he had suffered much, and done such services unto God in the good of Souls, as he had already laboured more than all the Apostles. After he had entered into the Synagogues of Damasous, and publicly preached Jesus Christ with so evident danger of his life, that if he had not escaped over the walls of the City, he had been cut in a thousand pieces: After that in Arabia he had converted many people, many in Tarsua and in Antioch: After he had been rapt up into the third Heaven: After that he had been elected by the Holy Ghost to be an Apostle, and wrought great and prodigious Miracles: After that he had passed over Asia Minor, all Greece, and the better part of Europe, converting innumerable Souls: After he had distributed great Alms, gathering them with much labour, made long journeys, and brought them unto the poor in Jerusalem: After the suffering of innumerable persecutions: After having been thrice stoned and once left for dead: After having been often whipped, and often apprehended: After infinite services performed for the Church: Altar all these it seemed unto him, that he had suffered nothing, done nothing for Christ, and he forgot it all, as if it had been the first day of his conversion, determining still to do more, to suffer more, to labour more, to begin anew, esteeming himself after so many labours and services to be an useless and an unprofitable servant, following the counsel of our Saviour when he says, 
Luk. 17.  After ye have done all what I have commanded you to do, say, ye are unprofitable servants, and that ye have done what ye ought have done. Let a man compare his labours, his zeal, his preaching, his charity with that of the Apostle, and he will find that he hath not yet begun. If then the Apostle, who at that time exceeded the merits of divers Saints who have died in great holiness, and yet forgot all, judging he had done nothing, but turned to begin afresh, we who have not yet begun, wherefore shall we be weary before we begin? let us ever begin anew, since Eternity which we hope for is ever to be new, and ever to begin. Let us not glory, saith Dionysius Carthusianus, in the merits of our life past: neither let us esteem ourselves for any thing we have already done, but let us bestir ourselves as freshly, and with as much fervour, as if we did but that day begin, and were that day also to die.    

CAP. IX.  
How Eternity is without change.  
THe second condition of Eternity is to be immutable, and to persevere without change: which the Ancients gave us to understand by many most mysterious Symbols. Some figured it by painting of a Chair; 
Isaiah. 6.  conformable unto which the Prophet Isaiah saith, That he saw the Lord sitting on high upon a Throne, setting forth in this settled posture the immutability and greatness of his Eternity. And St. John in his Apocalyps often celebrates the Seat of God, as representing his eternal duration. More clearly the Prophet Daniel, 
Dan. 7.  unto whom God vouchsafed to appear as he was eternal; whereupon he calls him the Ancient of days, and says he beheld him with his hair all white, and seated upon a Throne. From the same consideration the Nasam●nes, a certain People of Africa; when any amongst them was about to die, caused him to sit, and in that posture to expire; signifying thereby the estate wherein his Soul was prefently to enter. And for the same cause they interred their dead sitting; giving us thereby to understand, that rest and repose were not to be sought for until death, when we were to enter the gates of Eternity. This life is no place to sit in; we are not here to stay; the misery which we find in it sufficiently declares, that God made it not for that purpose. This life is but lent us, we are not to abide in it, but to walk apace unto the Mountain of Eternity. It is so miserable, that even itself informs us of another life, wherein we shall find rest, since here we cannot meet it. In Heaven all our unhappiness, all our miseries are to cease; there the tears of this valley are to be wiped from our eyes; there our troubles are to find ease; there the unquietness of our hearts is to have repose. In this world no manner of life, no sort of estate, no condition of man, no greatness of dignity, no abundance of riches, no felicity of fortune can ever give rest unto the possessor. For this reason the Romans in the Statues, which they erected to their deceased Emperors, made them still sitting; whereby they would signify, that all the felicity of this world could not bestow true rest, and even upon him, who was the Master of it, until the end of life. Man is born, as Job saith, to labour. Until death there is no rest. Let us not then seek it here, but let us place the chair of our joys where it may be firm and stable, and not in the unquietness and turmoils of things temporal, where death at least will certainly overthrow it.  
Others painted Eternity in the form of a Snake; to note the condition of a perpetual continuance not subject unto change, but remaining still in the same estate and vigour. For as this Serpent wants wings, feet, and hands, which are the extremities of other creatures: so Eternity wants an end, which is the extremity of things temporal. 
Apud Euseb. l. 1. de praepar. Evang. c. 7.  Moreover as Serpents, although without feet, wings, or any  organ of motion, yet by their great liveliness of spirit move more swiftly than those creatures which have them: so Eternity without days, or nights, or changes, which are the feet and wings of time, outstrips and over-go's all things that are temporal. Besides, Serpents enjoy such a vivacity and length of life, that Philon Biblius saith, they die not, unless they be killed, and that they hardly know a natural death, being not subject to those changes of other creatures, from youth to age, and from health to sickness, but preserve themselves still fresh and young by the often renewing and casting of their old skins; neither have they like other creatures any determinate size of their greatness, but so long as they live increase in bigness after the manner of Eternity, which hath no limit, change, or declination; a condition of all others most to be feared by the wicked, who are for ever to continue in those eternal torments without the least refreshment, and without so much as the comfort of changing one torment for another. St. Paulinus said of St. Martin, that his rest was to change his labours: and certainly to change one pain for another, although not in itself much less, is yet some ease. But even this shall be wanting unto the damned, who shall never be permitted so much change, as to turn from one side to another. A fearful thing, that being now five thousand years past, since the first damned Soul was plunged into hell, that during all this time no change should afford him the least ease. How many alterations have since happened in this world? yet none in his most bitter torments. The world hath once been destroyed by an universal deluge, eight only persons remaining alive. After which all men enjoying an equal liberty, the Assyrians became Tyrants over the rest, and raised the first Monarchy, which endured 1240 years, and then not without the general uproar and turmoil of all Asia passed unto the Medes, under whom it continued 300 years. Which ended, it came unto the Persians; and from them unto the Grecians, from whom, not without greater alteration than any of the former, it passed unto the Romans; under whom also it hath since failed. Amongst all which changes and revolutions of the world, none hath yet passed over that miserable and unfortunate creature. Besides these alterations in government, what alterations hath nature itself suffered? what Islands hath the Sea swallowed up? one of which, as Plato reports, was bigger than all Europe and Africa: And what others hath it cast up of new. What buildings, or to say better, what Mountains hath the Earthquakes left secure? many Hills have been overwhelmed, or turned topsie turvie; others have appeared and sprung up never known before. What Cities have been sunk? what Rivers dried up: and others vomited forth through new Channels? what Towers have not fallen? what Walls not been ruined? what Monuments not defaced? how often hath the face of things changed? how many revolutions have the greatest Kingdoms suffered? and this miserable sinner hath in all this time not given one turn. How many times hath the year renewed itself? how many Springs: how many Autumn's past? and yet he remains in that obscure night, as in his first entrance into that place of torments, The Sun hath compassed this elemental World a Million, and 700000 times; and yet this wretched Soul could never once change his posture, or remove one pace since his first falling into hell. Besides this, what troubles, what labours have been passed by those innumerable people, who have lived from the beginning of the world until this present, and are now all vanished? what sicknesses have been suffered? what torments, what griefs endured, and are now all forgotten? but no grief, nor torment of that unfortunate Sinner hath in these 5000 years passed away, or shall ever become less. Ptolemy roared out with the pain of his Gout; Aristarcus was grieved with his Dropsy, Cambyses was afflicted with his Falling-sickness; Theopompus afflicted with his Ptisick; Tobias with his blindness, and holy Job with his Leprosy: yet those griefs had their end. But all those evils which jointly possess this miserable creature have not, or ever shall have change or period. They of Rabatha were sawed in the midst: others thrashed to death with Flails: others burnt alive in Furnaces: others torn in pieces by wild Beasts: Anaxarcus was pounded in a Mortar, Perillus burnt in a brazen Bull. But all those pains passed away, and are now no more: but that damned person hath not yet made an end; or to say better, hath not yet begun to pass any one of his torments, which 100000 years hence shall be as new and sensible unto him, as they were in the beginning. What desperation must then seize upon him, when he sees a change in all things, and in his pains and torments none? for if even the pleasures of this life, if continued the same, convert into griefs, how shall those pains, which never change, be suffered? what spite and madness shall possess him, when he shall behold the Flames of St. Laurence, the Stripes of St. Clement of Aneira, the Cross of St. Andrew, the Fasts of St. Hilarion, the Haircloth of Simeon Stylites, the Disciplines of St. Dominick, all the Torments of Martyrs, and Penances of Confessors now passed, and turned into eternal joys: but his own pains neither to pass nor change, neither any hopes left either of ending his torments or himself? These are evils to be feared, and not those transitory ones of the world, which either change, grow less or end, or at least make an end of him, who suffers them. Let not therefore the sick person be grieved and vexed with his infirmities, nor the poor man with his wants, nor the afflicted with his crosses, since the evils of this life are either changed with time, eased by counsel and consolations, or at least ended by death. But this miserable wretch in Hell cannot so much as comfort himself with the hope of dying, because in that multitude of torments, if there were the least hope of end, it would be some ease, some refreshment, which must not there happen, the Gates on all parts being shut to comfort. Hope beguiles us in our evils, and in some sort frees us from the sense of suffering. There is no labour or toil so great, which hope makes not tolerable. The most afflicted and wretched persons live and subsist with expectation, that one day their miseries will change or end. But that ease and comfort is denied the damned, whose unhappiness is never to have an end, nor their torments alteration. They would esteem it for a comfort, if a thousand years hence they might be sure of that little drop of water begged by the rich glutton: But what speak I of a thousand years? it after an hundred thousand, after a thousand times so many, so that some certain time were prefixed, and the door but of some small hope set open unto them. If all the space, which is taken up by the Earth, covered by the Water, filled with the Air, and encompassed by the Heavens, were full of grains of Wheat: And a damned Soul were told, that after all that Wheat were eaten by some small Bird, which after every hundred thousand years should come to take one grain, and when it should have taken away the last, they would give it that drop of water which was demanded by the assistance of Lazarus, it would be comforted to see this only change, and so small an ease in the midst of his pains. Yet it shall not have this; and after so many millions of millions of years the miserable wretch shall be in the same torments, raging in the same manner, and as much void of all comfort as ever. This is it shall burst the hearts of the damned, when they shall perceive all remedies to be then impossible, which in this life were so easy to be obtained. With the crumbs of bread, which fell from his table, the rich Glutton might have purchased eternal happiness; and now the refreshment of one drop of water is denied him. What rancour shall they have against themselves, when they shall remember that by the forbearance of one momentary pleasure they might have escaped eternal torments? How raging will their very entrails be to consider, that that is now past help, which was heretofore so easily to be avoided.  
Let therefore a Christian open his eyes, and, whilst he may, remedy that, which hereafter, when he would, will be impossible. Now is the time acceptable, now is the time of Salvation, now is the time of pardon and indulgence, now that may be gained in a moment, which all Eternity cannot hereafter redeem. What other thing was signified unto us by the flames of the Babylonian furnace, 
Dan. 3.  which, as the Scripture saith, mounted unto the height of forty nine Cubits? It doth not say, fifty, as is usual in other places to give the complete number, although some be wanting. And who, I pray you, approached so near unto that flame, which flew and moved up and down in the air, that could so punctually measure the height of it to arise just unto forty nine Cubits, and not to reach fifty? But herein was the Mystery, which we are about to speak off. The Number of fifty was the Number of the Jubilee, and signified Indulgence and Pardon, and by the flames of that Furnace were figured the flames of Hell: which how far soever they shall exceed the torments of this life, yet shall never attain unto a Jubilee, and remission of their pains. Now, 'tis true they may: Now every year, every month, every day, every hour, and every moment is a time of Pardon and Jubilee. What would a damned Soul give for one only quarter of an hour of those whole days and weeks, which men misspend in this life, for to be able to do penance in? Let us not therefore be prodigal of a thing so precious; let us not lose time, and and with it Eternal Glory. The time of this life is so precious, that St. Bernardin dares give it this exaggeration, saying, That time is worth as much as God; because by it God is gained. Let us not therefore fling away a thing of that value, but let us make use of this cheap bargain, purchasing with time Eternity, and God himself the Lord of Eternity: fulfilling that which was said by Ecclesiasticus: 
Eccl. 20.  Is there any who for a small price will redeem many things? Upon which words Galfridus says, 
Galfrid. in Cant.  If there be due unto thee eternal bitterness, and thou mayst escape it by suffering what is temporal, certainly thou hast redeemed great matters for a small price. In blessings eternal it is likewise a great comfort to have them free from change, so as they can neither end nor diminish; and that temporal Goods changing and consuming themselves, they remain in the same firm and stable condition for all Eternity. Let a Christian compare the brevity, and inconstancy of the things of this life with the immutability, and eternal duration of those of the other. Let him seriously observe the difference betwixt those two words, Now, and Ever. The fools of this world say, Let us now rejoice; The wise and virtuous say, it is better that we forbear our pleasures now, that we may hereafter enjoy eternal happiness. The worldlings say, Let us now live daintily and far deliciously: The Servants of Christ say, Let us die in the flesh that we may live ever without change. The Sinners say, Let us now enjoy the world: They who fear God say, Let us fly from this unstable world, that we may for ever enjoy the Celestial. Compare these two, and see who are the wiser; those who aim only at which endures but this momentary instant Now, or those who look after Eternity, which lasts for ever; those who shall suffer eternally without any profit at all, or those who are content to suffer a little in this world for so great a gain, as is the Kingdom of Heaven. O most miserable and disconsolate life of the damned! who are neither to have end in their torments, change in their griefs, nor to reap profit by the pains which they suffer. Three things only afford us comfort in the troubles of this life, that either they may end, or become more supportable by change, or at least that we shall be recompensed by some benefit for our sufferance; all which will fail in eternal pains, in which there is no hope either of end, change, or profit. A fearful mistake to suffer for a whole Eternity without benefit hereafter, for not suffering a moment now, with so great a reward as is the eternal Glory of God, and Kingdom of Heaven.   

CAP. X.  
How Eternity is without comparison.  
FRom what is already spoken may be collected the third Quality of Eternity, which is to be without comparison. For as there is no comparison betwixt what is infinite and what is finite, so there can be none betwixt what is Eternal, and what is Temporal. And as the Mountain Olympus (or if any greater in the world) is as far distant from the immensity of God, as the smallest grain of sand, so a thousand years are as far short of Eternity as the twinkling of an eye. Wherefore Boëtius says, that there is more similitude betwixt a moment of time and ten thousand years, than betwixt ten thousand years and Eternity. There is no expression which can sufficiently set forth the greatness of what is Eternal, nor which can explicate the brevity of time, and littleness of what is Temporal. Wherefore David, 
Psal. 76.  when he considered what had passed since God created the world until his time, calls all those Ages, which were already past, by the name of days, saying, I thought upon the days of old. And it is not much that he should call Ages days, when in another place he says a thousand years in the presence of God are but as yesterday. 
1. Joan. 2.  And St. John expresses it yet more fully, when he calls all those years, which were to pass betwixt his time and the end of the world, whereof 1600 are already run, but an hour. But David, when he set himself seriously to think upon Eternity, which in itself is but one, and, as the Saints speak, one day, he calls it Eternal years, augmenting as much as he could the conception of Eternity, and diminishing that of time. For the same reason the Prophet Daniel, setting forth the Glory of Apostolical persons, speaks in the plural number, That they shall shine like Stars for perpetual Eternity's; it seeming unto him, that the ordinary Number did not suffice to declare what Eternity was: and therefore explicates it by the number of many Eternity's, adding for more amplification the Epithet of perpetual. 
Dan. 12.  But endeavour we never so much, we declare nothing of it. Let the Prophets turn themselves wholly into tongues, let them call it perpetual Eternity's; let them call it Eternity of Eternity's; let them call it many days; let them call it Ages of Ages; all falls short to explicate the infinite duration which it hath. Wherefore Eliu speaking of God, 
Job. 36.  says his years were inestimable, because no years imaginable could compare with his Eternity. Betwixt a minute and 100000 years there is proportion: but betwixt 100000 years, and Eternity none at all. Well may a quarter of an hour be compared unto a million of years, but a million of years with Eternity holds no comparison, in respect of which all time vanishes and disappears: neither is a million of years more than a moment, since neither have proportion with Eternity, but in respect of it are both equal, or (to say better) are both nothing. 
Eccl. 11.  Wherefore the Wise man said, That if a man had lived many years, and those all in pleasure, yet ought he to remember the time of darkness, and the many days, (for so he calls Eternity) the which when they shall come, all that is past will be found to be vanity. If Cain had lived and enjoyed all the felicities of the Earth even until this day, and at this instant died, what should he now possess of all his delights? What would remain unto him of all his days past? Certainly no more than remained unto his brother Abel, whom he murdered more than 5500 years ago; equally had both their days disappeared, and Cain had no more left of his sports and pleasures, so fully and for so long a time enjoyed, than Abel of his short life, but more to suffer in that time of darkness, and the many days of Eternity. 
Eccl. 11.  For if, as Ecclesiasticus saith, The evils of one hour make many pleasures to be forgotten, and the moment wherein a man dies bereaves him of all he did in life either for delight or appetite, why shall not then the torments of Hell make him forget all the pleasures of the earth, and the Eternity of evils strip him of a few and momentary pastimes? If with the grief of one hour the pleasures of many years are forgotten, why shall not the pleasure of one moment, for which thou fallest into Hell, be forgotten with the malice of many years? And if the instant of thy bodily death deprive thee of all thy vain contents and entertainments past, what shall be done by the eternal death of thy Soul? In that instant, wherein Heliogabolus died, what continued with him of all his sports and delights? Nothing. At this present, after so many years measured in the Eternity of Hell, what now remains with him but torments upon torments, griefs upon griefs, pains upon pains, evils upon evils, and a perpetual Woe is me, which shall last as long as God is God? The moment wherein we die (as touching the things of this life) makes all men equal. He who lived long, and he who died shortly: he who enjoyed much, and he who had but little: he who was glutted with all sorts of delights, and he who was fed with the bread of sorrow, and vexed with all sorts of griefs and misfortunes, all are now the same, all are ended in death; the one is not sensible of his pleasure, nor the other grieved with his labours. After the expiration of an hundred years in a most rigid life what felt St. Romualdus of all his austerities? What the most penitent Simeon Stylites, after fourscore years of a prodigious penance, wherein he quitted not his hair-shirt by day or night? What felt he at his death of his continual fasts and long prayers? Certainly of pain no more, than if he had spent all that long time in the wanton pleasures of Sardanapalus. Of griefs he found nothing, but of joy and glory he now does, and ever shall in abundance. What felt St. Clement of Ancira of his twenty eight years torments suffered by the furious rage and madness of Tyrants? Certainly of Pain no more, then if during that time he had enjoyed all the delights of the world, but of Glory an Eternity. For if the malice of one hour make the contents of an hundred years to be forgotten: much more will the happiness of an Eternity blot out the remembrance of 28 years' sufferance. O prodigious moment of death, which gives an end unto all that is Temporal; which transmits' and changes all things; which concludes the gusts and pleasures of sinners, and gins their torments; which ends the labours and austerities of Saints, and gins their Glory and joys Eternal.  
Let therefore a Christian seriously consider, that the pleasures, by which he sins, and the mortifications; by which he satisfies, are equally to have an end: and that the torments which he deserves by the one, and the joys which he merits by the other, are equally never to have an end: and let him then make election of that which shall be best for him. Let him see if it be not better to work himself an eternal Crown of glory out of the sleight and momentary sufferings of this life; And let not the length of life affright him: for there is nothing long in respect of Eternity. It was therefore well laid of St. Augustine, 
In Ps. 45.  That all which hath an end is short. A hundred years of penance have an end, and are therefore short: a thousand years, a hundred thousand Millions have their end, and are therefore in the appearance of what is immense but little, and in respect of Eternity no more than an instant. In the same manner we are to look upon a thousand years as upon an hour; and for itself a long life is no more to he desired then a short, since both in respect of Eternity bear the same bulk. And as in respect of a solid body a thousand superficies' bear no more proportion than one, all of them together being as incapable of making up the least particle of solidity, as one only: so in respect of Eternity one year is not less than a thousand, nor a thousand more than one. And upon all time, although it were a Million of ages, we are to look as upon an instant, and upon all, which is temporal, as upon a superficies, which hath only an appearance, but nothing of substance; neither can all time, and all temporal goods together make up one only good of Eternity. If the whole earth be but a point in respect of the Heavens, which are notwithstanding of a finite and limited greatness, what great matter is it, if all time be but as an instant in respect of Eternity, which is infinite and without limit? Betwixt the Earth, nay betwixt the least grain of sand, and the highest Heaven there is a proportion: both have quantity; but betwixt a thousand years and Eternity none at all, and are therefore less than a point. O blindness of men, who are so besotted with time, that in life they desire pleasure, and in death a memorial, and both in death and life a fame and renown; for what? even for a moment, for an instant. Wherefore desirest thou pleasure in life, which to morrow is to end? Wherefore desirest thou a vain memory after death, which can endure no longer than the world, whose end will not be long deferred? And although it should yet last for a million of ages, it were but short, since those also must conclude, and all were but as a moment in resped of Eternity. As the Immensity of God is in respect of place, so is Eternity in respect of time; and as in respect of the immensity of God the whole Sea is no greater than a drop of water, nor an atom in the air less than the whole world; so in respect of Eternity a hundred thousand years, and half a quarter of an hour are the same. If God then should bestow upon thee this life only for a quarter of an hour, and that thou knowest likewise that the world within an hour after thy death were to end also, wouldst thou spend that short time in ostentation and setting forth thyself, whereby to raise a fame, that might endure that short time after thy life? no certainly: thou wouldst busy thyself with other thoughts, thou wouldst think of providing to die well, and not trouble thyself in leaving a vain fame and memory, which were so small a time to over-last thee. Know then that thou oughtest to do the same, although thou wert certain to live a hundred years, and the world to endure a hundred thousand after thee. For all which hath an end, is short, and all time in respect of Eternity is but a day, an hour, a moment. Remember therefore the saying of St. John, who said his time was in the last hour of the world, although there then wanted many years: all which in respect of Eternity were but as one hour. So than if thou wouldst not be solicitous of leaving a Name behind thee, if the world were to continue but an hour, no more oughtest thou to be now, although it were to endure for many ages.  
If thou knewest for certain that thou hadst to live a hundred years, and that during that time thou shouldest have nothing to eat, or sustain thyself, but what thou drewest from the store and treasure of some great King, and that too in the small space of an hour, wouldst thou spend that hour in walking abroad, in vain conversation and entertainments? certainly no: thou wouldst not cease from labouring and making haste to load thyself with those treasures. How art thou then so careless, knowing that thy Soul is to live for an eternity, and that thou hast nothing to sustain it with hereafter, but what thou gainest by thy merits within the space of this short life? look how short a time is allowed thee to provide for Eternity: How art thou then so negligent, as to pass it in vain pleasures? how comest thou then to laugh, and not to weep rather, and tear thy flesh with rigid penance and mortifications? More is an hour in respect of a hundred years, than a hundred thousand are in respect of Eternity: And therefore if in that hour, because the time appeared but short, thou wouldst not be slothful in furnishing thyself for a hundred years, much less oughtest thou to be slow in those hundred years of life to provide for Eternity. Consider also what a hundred years are in respect of a million; and a million of years in respect of Eternity. If for a hundred years spent in torments thou wert to enjoy a million of years in pleasure and content, certainly thou hadst a most advantageous bargain, since thou receivest ten thousand times more than thou gavest. What a purchase hast thou then, if not for a hundred years of pain, but for a short hour spent in the mortification of some one vain pleasure thou receivest an Eternity of glory, in respect of which a million of years are but as air instant? See then how short is the space of this life to gain the eternal; see how short is all time to merit Eternity. Well did St. Augustin say, 
August. in Psal. 39  For an eternal rest thou wert in reason to undergo an eternal labour, and for an eternal felicity to endure eternal pains. How then can the short labours of this life seem tedious unto thee? questionless there is no just Soul in Heaven, nor damned in Hell, that so often as he casts his eyes upon Eternity, is not astonished, that so short a thing, as this life, should be the Key of so long a happiness in the one, or misery in the other. See then how cheap thou hast an Eternity of glory, the which is an infinite for a finite. Weigh a thousand years, weigh a thousand millions in counterpoise with Eternity; they weigh nothing: all is bat smoke and straw; there is no comparison betwixt infinite and finite; betwixt what is real, and what is painted. Well did Plotinus say, that Time wat the Image of Eternity; conformable unto which David said, That man passes away in an Image; as if he should have said he passes away in time. The same which is said of Time, may be said of Goods and Evils temporal, which pass along in time, which are all but counterfeited and painted stuff in respect of those, which are eternal. See then how cheap thou hast a glory without end even for a short and transitory toil, a true and real happiness for a painted labour. Certainly thou oughtest not only to eschew the pleasures of this life, but even to abhor them, and to seek Eternity through troubles, fire and swords. For as Eternity holds no comparison with Time, so it ought during Time to be sought with fervour, diligence and incomparable follicitude. Solomon said of Wisdom, 
Prov. 3.  that in her right hand she held Eternity, or length of days, and in her left riches and glory; to signify with what earnestness we ought to seek the eternal, and to prefer virtue before wealth and honours. For as the right hand is possessed of more force and vigour than the left, so we ought to hold fast and preserve the eternal with all our strength, but not the temporal: which, how glorious soever they appear, we are but slightly to lay hold on, since they profit nothing. Things, which have an end, sink as it were into the abyss of nothing, and are as if they had not been at all. Neither speak I only of the pleasures of life, but even of life itself, which is nothing but a shadow of a being in the midst of an Eternity. Consider that thy pleasures, before thou hadst them, had for an Eternity no being, and once past shall for another Eternity never be again. What are they then more than if they had not been at all? all of them begin, and end in the middle of Eternity, which neither hath beginning nor ending: and are now sunk and drunk up in that vast abyss, as if they had never been. And therefore little shall, what is temporal and passes away, profit thee, unless thou draw from it some fruit, which is permanent and eternal.   

CAP. XI.  
What is Time according unto Aristotle and other Philosophers; And the little consistence of life.  
ALthough it may be collected out of that which is spoken what Time is, and what temporal life, and those things, which pass along in Time, are: let us notwithstanding, having already treated of Eternity, consider it now more particularly, that we may from thence frame a more lively conception of the baseness of things Temporal, and greatness of Eternal. Aristotle defines Time to be the Measure of Motion; because where there is no change or succession, there is no time. This Speusippus declares more fully, saying Time is the measure of the swift and speedy course of the Sun; and Proclus will have it to be The number of the courses and revolutions of the Celestial Bodies; The Pythagoreans of the motion of the highest Sphere, which turns the rest of the inferior Orbs. Conformable unto which Albertus Magnus said it was The measure of the motion of the Primum Mobile; 
Albert. Mag. in 3. phys. tract. 2. c. 3. Avicen. suffi▪ lib. 2. c. 13.  in so much as all agree in this, that Time is but an accident of a thing so unconstant, as is motion. Wherefore Avicenna not without reason affirmed, that Time was more invalid, vain, and inconsiderable than Motion. See then what it is to trust unto humane life; since it is a member of that which is so unconstant and rapid as Time, which runs and passes away according to the course of the Sun, and revolutions of Stars in the Firmament, whose swiftness not only exceeds the flight of birds, but even surpasses the wind itself. Know then that death follows thee not with leaden feet: it hath wings and comes flying in pursuit of thee with such swiftness, as greater cannot be imagined: it exceeds not only the birds of the air, but a discharged Canon moves not with that fury, as it runs after thee, and will at last not fail to overtake thee. Call to remembrance the swiftest things within thy apprehension, and they all move but the pace of a Tortoise in comparison of Death. A Falcon moves with great swiftness after a Heron; but all her speed is phlegm in respect of that of Time, and Death, which runs like an armed horseman to lay hold on thee. More swift than the motion of the bird is that of the Fowler's arrow, since it hits and kills her flying; but dull and slow is the swiftest arrow in respect of that which Death aims at thee, even from the first moment of thy birth. What can be imagined more swift than a flash of lightning? yet that moves leisurely in respect of Death, which runs after thee with a motion equal to that of the Stars in the Firmament, whose swiftness is so prodigious, that, according to the more moderate account of Clavius, they run in one day more than a thousand seventeen millions and a half of leagues, and in one hour more than forty two millions. After this rate doth death pursue thee. How is it, that thou tremblest not? how comes it that thou fearest it not? now is the bow drawn, now the arrow let lose, and already in the way to hit thee. Why dost thou strive to shun it, and dost not rather humble and prepare thyself to receive it? If one should tell thee that a whole tire of Artillery were immediately to be discharged against thee, and no way left to avoid the strokes, how wouldst thou be amazed? but if thou perceived that fire were already given, the very noise perhaps would kill thee. Know then that the Artillery of death with much more fury is already shot, and there is no quarter of an hour wherein it flies not more than ten millions of leagues to overtake thee: and yet from whence it parted, and where it now is, thou knowest not. Wert thou certain it were far hence, yet it runs with so precipitate a course, that it will not fail in a short time to reach thee; and therefore thou being ignorant of what distance it is, thou oughtest every moment to expect it, since every moment it may be with thee.  
Besides this of swiftness, we are to consider that other condition of time noted by Aristotle, that it is The measure of motion according to the precedent, & subsequent; which is the same, as it he should have said, Time is the measure of motion, in as much as it contains parts after parts in a continual succession; the which, as Averro notes, is essentially included in the definition of time, as not having capacity to present things at once and together, but successively and by parts: some leaving to be, that others may succced, the first parts every moment dying, that the second may possess their places. Those goods of life, which accompany our infancy, leave us in our youth: and those of our youth, when we become old. The candour, sincerity, and innocency of children is lost when they leave their coats; and the strength and vigour of youth consists not with the wisdom and judgement of age. It is not in the power of Time to give us altogether, but the goods of life being limited, it bestows them with a limited and restrained hand: Even life itself it gives us but by pieces, and mingles as many parts of death, as it gives of life. The age of Infancy dies, when we enter into that of Childhood; that of Childhood, when we become Youths; that of youth, when we come to the age of Manhood; that, when we are old, and even old age itself expires, when we become decrepit: so that during the same life we find many deaths, and yet can hardly persuade ourselves that we shall die one. Let us cast our eyes upon our life past, let us consider what is become of our Infancy, Childhood, and Youth; they are now dead in us. In the same manner shall those ages of our life, which are to come, die also. Neither do we only die in the principal times of life, but every hour, every moment includes a kind of death in the succession and change of things. What content is there in life, which quickly dies not by some succeeding sorrow? what affliction of pain, which is not followed by some equal or greater grief than itself? why are we grieved for what is absent, since it offends us being present? what we desire with impatience, being possessed, brings care and solicitude, loss, grief, and affliction. The short time which any pleasure stays with us, it is not to be enjoyed wholly, and all at once, but tasted by parts; so as when the second part comes, we feel not the pleasure of the first, lessening itself every moment: and we ourselves still dying with it, there being no instant of life, wherein death gains not ground of us. The motion of the Heavens is but the swift turn of the spindle, which rols up the thread of our lives: and a most fleet horse, upon which death runs post after us. There is no moment of life, wherein death hath not equal jurisdiction; and, as a Philosopher saith, there is no point of life, which we divide not with death: so as, if well considered, we live but one only point, and have not life, but for this present instant. Our years past are now vanished, and we enjoy no more of them, than if we were already dead; the years to come we yet live not, and possess no more of them, than if we were not yet born. Yesterday is gone, to morrow we know not what shall be: of to day many hours are past, and we live them not, others are to come, and whether we shall live them or no, is uncertain; so that, all counts cast up, we live but this present moment, and in this also we are dying; so that we cannot say that life is any thing, but the half of an instant, and an indivisible point divided betwixt it and death. With reason, as Zacharias said, may this temporal life be called The shadow of death, since under the. shadow of life death steals upon us; and as at every step the body takes, the shadow takes another, so at every pace our life moves forward, death equally advances with it. And as Eternity hath this proportion, that it is ever in beginning, and is therefore a perpetual beginning, so life is ever ending and concluding: and may therefore be called a perpetual end, and a continual death. There is no pleasure in life, which, although it should last twenty continued years, that can be present with us longer than an instant, and that with such a counterpoise, that in it death no less approaches, than life is enjoyed. Time is of so small a being and substance, and consequently our life, 
Phys. 4. trac. 7. c. 4.  that, as Albertus Magnus saith, it hath no essence permanent and stable, but only violent and successive, with which (not being able to detain itself in its Career) it precipitates into Eternity; and like an ill mouthed horse runs headlong on, and tramples under toot all it meets with, and without stopping ruins what it finds before it. And as we cannot perfectly enjoy the sight of some gallant Cavalier decked with jewels, and adorned with glitterring bravery, who with bridle on the neck passed in a full Career before us: so are we not able perfectly to enjoy the things of this life, which are still in motion, and never rest one moment, but run headlong on, until they dash themselves in pieces upon the rock of death, and perish in their end. The name which the Emperor Marcus Aurelius gave unto Time, 
Mar. Aurel. Anton. lib. 4.  when he said, that it was a furious and a raging wave, did not a little express this condition of it: for as such a wave sinks and overwhelms the Vessel, not permitting the Merchant to enjoy the treasures with which she was laden: so Time with his violence and fury ruins and drowns all that runs along in it. This Philosopher considering the brevity and fleeting of Time, judged a long and a short life to be the same; whole opinion for our further understanding I shall here relate. If some of the Gods, saith he, should tell thee that thou wert to die to morrow, or the day after, thou wouldst not (except thou wert of a base and abject spirit) make any account whether, since the difference and distance betwixt the two days were so small. In the same manner thou art to judge of the difference of dying to morrow and a thousand years hence. Consider seriously how many Physicians, who with knit brows have handled the pulses of their sick Patients, are now themselves dead; how many Mathematicians, who gloried in foretelling the death of others; how many Philosophers, who have disputed subtly of death and mortality; how many famous Captains, who have killed and destroyed a multitude of poor people; how many Kings and Tyrants, who with insolency have used their power over their oppressed Vassals; how many Cities (If I may so say) have died, as Helice, Pompeios, Herculanum, and innumerable others? Add unto these how many thou thyself hast known to die, and assisted at their Exequys, and that which yesterday was fish, and fresh, is to day laid in pickle, or dust. Momentary then is all time. All this from this most-wise Prince.   

CAP. XII.  
How short Life is, for which respect all things temporal are to be despised.  
BEhold then what is Time, and what thy Life, and see if there can be any thing imagined more swift, and more inconstant than it. Compare Eternity, which continues ever in the same state, with Time, which runs violently on, and is ever changing; and cousider that as Eternity gives a value and estimation un●● those things, which it preserves, so Time disparages and takes away the value of those that end in it. The least joy of Heaven is to be esteemed as infinite, because it is infinite in duration; and the greatest content of the earth is to be valued as nothing, because it ends and concludes in nothing. The least torment in hell ought to cause an immense fear, because it is to last without end, and the greatest pains of this world are not to affright us, since they are to cease and determine. By how much Eternity ennobles and adds unto the greatness of those things which are eternal, by so much doth Time vilify, and debase those things, which are temporal: and therefore as all which is eternal, although it were little in itself ought to be esteemed as infinite, so all which is temporal, although it were infinite, yet is to be esteemed as nothing, because it is to end in nothing. If a man were Lord of infinite worlds, and possessed infinite riches, if they were at last to end, and he to leave them, they were to be valued as nothing; and if all things temporal have this evil property to sail and perish, they ought to have no more esteem, then if they were not. with good reason than is life itself to be valued as nothing, since nothing is more frail, nothing more perishing, and in conclusion is little more than if it had no being at all. Possessions, Inheritances, Riches, Titles, and other goods of fortune remain when man is gone, but not his Life. A little excess of cold or heat makes and end of that; a sharp wind, the infectious breath of a sick person, a drop of poison makes it vanish; in so much as no glass is so frail as it. Glass without violence may last long, but the life of man ends of itself; glass may with care be preserved for many ages, but nothing can preserve the life of man, it consumes itself.  
All this was well understood by King David, who was the most powerful and happy Prince the Hebrews ever had, as ruling over both the Kingdoms of Judah and Israel with all which was promised by God unto the Israelites, but not until his time possessed; his Dominions besides extending over many other Provinces, 
See 1. Paralip. 29. what he left him towards the building of the Temple only.  so as gold rolled up and down his House and Court, and he left at his death mighty treasures unto his Son Solomon. Yet this so fortunate a Prince considering that his greatness was to have an end, valued it as nothing, and not only esteemed his Kingdoms and treasures as a vanity, but even his life itself Wherefore he says, Thou hast put, O Lord, a measure unto my days, and my substance is as nothing; all my Rents, all my Kingdoms, all my Trophies, all my Treasures, all which I possess, although so powerful a King, all is nothing: And presently adds, Doubtless all is vanity all what living man is, 
Psal. 38.  all his whole▪ life is vanity, and nothing that belongs to him so frail as himself. Of so mean value are the things of this world although we were to enjoy them for many ages: but being to end so quickly, and perhaps more suddenly than we can imagine, what account is to be made of them? O if we could but frame a true conception of the shortness of this life, how should we despise the pleasures of it? This is a matter of such importance, that God commanded the principal his Prophets, that he should go into the Streets and Market-places, and proclaim aloud, How frail and short was the life of man. For the Prophet Isaiah being about to prophesy of the most high and hidden mystery, which ever God revealed unto man, which is the incarnation of the eternal Word, was suddenly commanded by the Lord to lift up his voice and to cry aloud: unto whom the Prophet replied, What is it O Lord that I must cry aloud? The Lord said, That all flesh is grass, and all the glory of it, at the flowers of the field. For as the grass, which is cut in the morning, withers before night, and as the flower is quickly faded, so is the life of all flesh, the beauty and splendour of it passing and withering in a day. Upon which place saith St. Hierome, 
Hieronin Comment.  He who shall look upon the frailty of our flesh, and that every moment of an hour we increase and decrease without ever remaining in the same state, and that even what we now speak, dictate, or write, flies away with some part of our life, will not doubt to say, his flesh is grass, and the glory of it as the flower of the field. And presently after; He that was yesterday an Infant is now a Boy, and will suddenly be a Youth, and even until old age runs changing through uncertain conditions of light, and perceives himself first to be an old man, before he gins to admire that he is not still a Boy. In another place the same Saint meditating upon the death of Nepotianus, who died in the flower of his age, breaks out into these complaints. 
In Epitaph. Nepot.  O miserable condition of humane nature; Vain is all that we live without Christ: all flesh is hay, and all the glory of it as the flower of the field. Where is now, that comely visage? where is now the dignity of the whole body, with which as with a fair garment the beauty of the Soul was once clothed? Ay pity▪ the Lily is withered by a Southern blast, and the purple of the Violet turned into paleness. And immediately adds, Why do we not therefore consider what in time must become of us, and what, will we or will not, cannot be far off? for should our life exceed the term of 900 years, and that the days Mathusalam were bestowed upon us, yet all this length of life once past (and pass it must) were nothing: and betwixt him who lives but ten years, and him who lives a thousand, the end of life and the unavoidable necessity of death once come, all is the same, save only he who lives longer, departs heavier loaden with his sins. This frailty therefore and brevity of humane life being so certain and evident, yet our Lord would have his Prophet publish it together with the most hidden and unknown mystery of his incarnation, and the manner of the world's redemption, which even the most high Scraphins did not conceive possible; and all because men will not suffer themselves to be persuaded of this truth, nor practically apprehend the shortness of their life: Nay seeing death seizeth upon others, yet they will not believe that it shall happen unto themselves; and although they hear of it hourly, yet it appears unto them as a hidden mystery, which they cannot understand. God therefore commanded the Prophet Isaiah, that he should proclaim and publish it with a loud voice, as a thing new and of great importance, that it might so penetrate and link into the hearts of men. Let us therefore receive this truth from God himself: All flesh is grass, All age is short, All time flies, All life vanishes, and a great multitude of years are but a great nothing.  
Let us also hear how true this is from those who lived the longest, 
Jux. Isi. l. de vita & mor. Pat. c. 24.  and have had the greatest experience of what it is to live. Perhaps thou mayst promise thyself to live a hundred years, as though this were a long life: Harken then unto holy Job, who lived 240 years, who knew best what it was to live, both in respect of his prosperity, and of his great troubles and afflictions, the which make life appear longer than it is. What says he of all his years? My days, saith he, are nothing. Nothing he calls them, although they lasted almost three ages. In other places speaking of the shortness of life, and declaring it with many Comparisons and Metaphors, sometimes he says, His days were more speedy than a Messenger, and that they passed as a Ship under sail, or as an Eagle which stoops furiously upon his prey; sometimes, that They were more swift than a Weavers Shuttle; in one place he compares his life unto a withered leaf, born up and down by the wind, or unto dry stubble; in another he says, That the life of man is like the flower, which springs up to day, and to morrow is trodden under foot: and that it flies like a shadow, without ever remaining in the same state. How poor a thing than is life, since holy Job calls it but a shadow, though then three or four times longer, than at present? And it is no marvel, since those whose life exceeded nine hundred years, who lived before the deluge, and are now most of them in hell, complain as the Wise man relates it in this manner. 
Sap. 5.  What hath our pride profited us, or the pomp of our riches availed us? all those things are passed as a shadow, or as a messenger, who runs post, or as a ship, which breaks the unquiet waves, and leaves no tract or path behind it, or like the bird, which flies through the air, and leaves no sign after her, but with the noise of her wings beats the light wind, and forces herself a passage without leaving any knowledge which way she made her flight, or like the arrow shot at the mark, which hath scarce divided the subtle Element, when it closes and joins again in such manner as it cannot be perceived which way it went: Even so we were hardly born when upon a sudden we ceased to be. These were the words even of those who were damned, who lived more than 800 years: and if they esteemed so long a life but as a shadow, and in the instant when they died judged they were scarce born; how canst thou think to live long in a time, wherein it is much to reach the age of 60? A life then of 800 years being no more than the flirting up and down of a little Sparrow, the flight of an arrow, or, to say better, the passage of a shadow; what then are fifty years, unto which perhaps thou mayst attain? certainly the longest term, whereunto humane life extends, was compared by Homer but unto the leaves of a tree, which at most endure but a Summer's season. Euripides judged that too much, and said that humane felicity was to be valued but as the length of a day. And Demetrius Phalareus allowed it but a moment's space. Plato thought it too much to give it any being at all, and therefore calls it but the dream of a waking man. And St. John chrysostom yet lessens that, calling it but a dream of those who sleep. It seems the Saints and Philosophers could find no Symbol, no comparison sufficient to express the shortness of man's life, since neither a Curriere by land, nor a Ship by sea, nor a Bird in the air passes with that speed. All these things which we have now mentionled, and others though esteemed swift, yet have not such equality of motion, but that they sometimes slacken their pace, and sometimes stand still. But the impetuous course of our life, by which it hastens unto death, stops not so much as whilst we sleep; and therefore appeared unto Philemius so swift and rapid, that he said this life was no more but to be borne and die, and that at our birth we issued forth of a dark Prison, and at our death entered into a more sad and dreadful Sepulchre. Quit from this short life the time of sleep, and thou quittest from it the third part: Take from it Infancy, and other accidents which hinder the seuse and fruit of living, and there hardly remains the half of that nothing, which thou esteemest so much. That which Averro affirmed of Time, when he said, 
Aver. 4. Phy. tex. 13.  that Time was a being diminished in itself, may be well verified of Life, which is in itself so little, as it is but a point in respect of Eternity; and yet so many parts are taken from that point. Besides all this, dost thou think that this piece of life, which thou now enjoyest, is certain? thou deceivest thyself. For as the Wise man says, Man does not know the day of his end; and therefore as fishes, when they are most secure, are then taken with the angle, and birds with the snare, so death assails us in the evil time, when we least think of it.  
Consider then how vile are all things temporal, and how frail is all the glory of the world, being grounded upon so feeble a foundation: The goods of the earth can be no greater than is life, which gives them their value; and if that be so poor and short, what shall they be?. what can the delights of man be, since his life is but a dream, a shadow, and as the twinkling of an eye? If the most long light be so short, what can be the pleasure of that moment, by which is lost eternal happiness? what good can be of value which is sustained by a life so contemptible and full of misery? A figure of this was the Statue of Nebuchodonosor, which although made of rich metal, as of gold and silver, yet was founded upon feet of clay, so as a little stone falling upon it overthrew it unto the earth. All the greatness and riches of the world have for foundation the life of him who enjoys them, which is so frail and slippery, that not a little stone, but even the grain of a grape hath been able to ruin and overthrow it. With reason did David say, that all which is living man is universal vanity: since the brevity of his light suffices to vilifies and make vain all the goods which he is capable of enjoying. Vain are the honours, vain are the applauses, the riches and pleasures of life, which being itself so short and frail, makes all things vain which depend upon it, and so becomes itself a vanity of vanities, and an universal vanity. What account wouldst thou make of a Tower founded upon a quicksand? or what safety wouldst thou hope for in a Ship bored with holes? certainly thou oughtest to give no more esteem unto the things of this world, since they are founded upon a thing so unstable as this life. What can all humane glory be, since life, which sustains it, hath (according to David) no more consistence than smoke, or (according to St. Thomas) than a little vapour, which in a moment vanishes? And although it should endure a thousand years, yet coming to an end, it were equal unto that which lasted but a day: For as well the felicity of a long as a short life is but smoke and vanity, since they both pass away and conclude in death. Guerricus the Dominican, a great Philosopher and Physician, and afterwards a most famous Divine, hearing them read the sift Chapter of Genesis, wherein are recounted the Sons and Descendants of Adam in these terms, The whole life of Adam was 930 years, and he died; The life of his Son Seth was 912 years, and he died, and so of the rest, began to think with himself, that if such and so great men after so long a life ended in death, it was not sat to lose more time in this world, but so to secure his life, that losing it here, he might find it hereafter; and with this thought entered into the Order of St. Dominick, and became of a most religious life.  
O what fools are men, who seeing life so short, endeavour to live long, and not to live well, 
Epis. 22.  since it is a thing most certain (as Seneca observes) that every man may live well, but no man, what age soever he attains unto, can live long. This folly appears more plainly by that which is said by Lactantius, 
Laae. lib. 6. divin. Instit.  that this life being so short, the goods and evils of it must be likewise short, as the goods and evils of the other must be eternal; and that God being pleased to make an equal distribution of both, ordained that unto the short and transitory goods, which we enjoy unlawfully in this life, should succeed eternal evils in the next: and unto those short evils, which we suffer here for God's sake, eternal goods and happiness should follow in the other, Wherefore Almighty God setting before us this disserence betwixt good and evil, and leaving us in liberty of choosing which we please, how great a folly were it for the not suffering of a few evils, and those so short, to lose goods so great and eternal, and for the enjoying of goods so short and transitory, to endure evils without end?   

CAP. XIII.  
What is Time according to St. Augustine.  
LEt us also see what the great Doctor of the Church Saint Augustine thought of the nature of Time: 
Lib. 11. Confess. ca 25.  the which in that great wit and understanding of his sound so little estimation and being, that after he had with much subtlety disputed what it was, at length comes to conclude that he knows not what it is, nay that he knows not so much, as what it is not to know it. The most that he can reach unto is, that no time is long, and that that only may be called time, which is present, the which is but a moment. The same is the opinion of Antoninus in his Philosophy, 
Aur. Anton. l. 2.  who speaks in this mauner. If thou wert to live 3000 years and 30000 more above those, yet oughtest thou to remember that no man lives any other life, than what he lives at present: and therefore the most long and the most short space of life is the same, that which is present being the same unto all, although not that which is already past. So as it seems there is but one only point of time; and that no man can lose either that which is past, or that which is to come: since no man can lose what he hath not. wherefore these two things ought to be preserved in memory: The one, that from the beginning all things keep the same form, and return as it were in a circle to the same estate; so as there is no difference betwixt the beholding of them for a 100, for 200 years, or much more incomparable. The other is, that he who lives long, and he who dies shortly lose the same thing, being both deprived of the present, of which they only are possessed, and and no man loses what he hath not. So much from this wise Prince: why found no other substance in time, but only this present moment. 
Cap. 14.  And St. Augustine informs us further of the being of this present moment, of which it cannot be affirmed so much as that it is at all. These are his words. If the present that it may be called time, is because it is to pass into the praeterit, how can it be said to be, since the only cause, why it is, is because it shall not be? so as we cannot affirm it to have a being, but in as much as it is a way into a not being.  
Behold then whereunto thou trusts thy felicity. See upon what pillar of brass thou placest thy hopes; even on so slight a thing, that its whole existence is in leaving to be, and receives its being (if it have any) from its passing into nothing. For what can that have, which is, and is not, ever leaving to be with that impetuous fury, that thou art not able to detain it for one small moment, since even during that moment it is in a perpetual motion? Let him, who is in the flower of his age, tell me by what power he is able to detain the years of his life but for one day: or whether he can keep the pleasure, which he now enjoys, but one hour from leaving him. Let him endeavour to lay hold on time: But it is in vain; He knows not where to fasten: Time hath no substance, and yet runs with that violence, that it will sooner hale thee after it, than thou shalt be able to keep it back. Wherefore the same holy Doctor speaking of life, says, That the time of life is a Career unto death, the which is so swift and mixed with so many deaths, that he began to doubt, whether the life of mortals were to be called a life or death; and therefore thus discourses. From the instant that we begin to be in this body, 
Lib. 13. de Civ. ca 10.  which is to die, there is nothing operated in it, but what brings on death. This is effected by the mutability of light, if that may be called a light, which only works to bring on death: For there is none who is not nearer his death this year than the last, to day than yesterday, now than a little while ago: and all the time we live is substracted from the time of living, and every day that which remains becomes less and less; in so much as the time of this light is nothing else, but a Career unto death, in which no man is permitted to make stay or to march with more leisure, but all are driven on with equal speed. Presently after he adds: For what else is daily and hourly done, until death which was still a working be consummated, and that time, which follows death, begin to be, which time was then in death whilst there was a continual decay of light? From hence it follows that man was never in light whilst he was in this body, which rather dies than lives: if perhaps he be not at the same time both in life and death jointly: that is, in life which he lives until that be ended, and in death which he dies, who is every moment deprived of some part of life. For the same reason Quintilian said: That we died every moment before the time of death was come. And Seneca; We err when we look upon death, as upon a thing to succeed, since it hath both preceded, and is also to follow; for all what hath been before us is death. And what imports it, whether thou begin not at all, or end, since the effect of both is not to be? Every day we die, and every day we lose some part of life, and in our very growth our life decreases and grows less, and this very day, wherein we live, we divide with death. Our light in the book of wisdom is compared unto the passing of a shadow, which, as it may be said to be a kind of night, so our life may be called a kind of death. For as the shadow hath some part of light, some of darkness, so our life hath some part of death, and some of life, until it come to end in a pure and solid death. And since it is to end in a not being, it is very little to be regarded, especially compared with eternity, which hath a being constant and for ever.  

§. 2  
All (as hath been said) which hath an end is little, since it is to end in nothing. Why therefore wilt thou lose much for that which is so little, that which is true for what is false, and a substance for a dream? Hear what St. John chrysostom says; 
Hom. 20. ad Pop.  If for having a pleasant dream only for one night a man were to be tormented a hundred years when he were awake, who would desire such a dream? Far greater is the difference betwixt the truth of eternity and the dream of this life, betwixt the eternal years of the either world, and the transitory ones of this. Less is this life in respect of the eternal, than an hours dream in respect of a hundred years awake; less than a drop in respect of the whole sea. Forbear then some small pleasure now, that thou mayst not be deprived of all pleasures hereafter; suffer rather some slight trouble at present, than be tormented hereafter tor all eternity. For, as St. Augustine says, better is a little bitterness in the throat, than an eternal torment in the bowels.  
All which passes in time Christ our Redeemer calls a very little. A very little did he call the time of his passion, and all those bitter pains which he suffered in it; a very little that of the Martyrdom of his Apostles, endured with so many sorts of torments: a little, a very little is all which in this life can be suffered in respect of eternal years. 
Tract. 10. in Jo.  Although, as St. Augustine says, this little, because we are yet in it, appears great, but when it shall be ended, than we shall perceive how small and contemptible it is. Let us place ourselves in the end of life: from that prospect we shall discern how small are all things which now seem great unto us. Unto a most observant and religious Father of the Company of Jesus, called Christopher Caro, our Lord was pleased to give this lesson, that he should often consider these two things, O how much, and O how little; That is, how much is eternity without end, how little is the time of this life; how much is God enjoyed for ever, how little the contents of this earth, which we are to leave behind us; how much it is to reign with Christ, how little to serve our own appetite; how much is eternal glory, and how little to live long in this valley of tears. Wherefore Eccksiasticus said, The number of the days of man, when many, are an hundred years, and are reputed as a drep of water, and as a grain of sand. So sew are our years in the day of eternity. Little will all time whatsoever appear to merit that which is eternal. With reason did St. Bernard often inculcate unto his Monks that saying of St. Hierome: No labour ought to appear hard, no torments long, by which is gained the glory of eternity. Unto Jacob the seven years, which he served Laban, seemed short for the love he bore unto Rachel; why should then the service of God for a small time seem long unto us? consider whom thou servest, and wherefore: and mark whom Jacob served, and for what. Thou servest the true God, and for eternal glory; he served a deceitful Idolater for a frail and fading beauty. Compare thy services with those of Jacob; see if thou hast served God, as he served Laban; 
Gen. 31.  see if thou canst say; By day I was scorched with heat, and by night benumbed with cold; sleep fled from mine eyes, and in this manner I served thee twenty years. It with such fidelity this Servant of God served a Pagan, how oughtest thou to serve God himself? If thou be'st truly his servant, all aught to seem little unto thee, since thou servest so good a Master, and for so great a reward.  
Look how thou imployest thy years, which, being but few for the meriting of so great a thing as Eternity, thou sufferest to pass thorough thy fingers without any profit at all. Well, saith St. Augustin, 
Lib. 10. contra Faust. c. 6.  was the time of this life signified by the spinning of the Parcaes or fatal Sisters, who were feigned by the wife Ancients to spin out the thread of life. Time past was that which was wound up, and roled upon the spindle: Time to come the Flax which remained to spin upon the Distaff: and the present that which passed betwixt the fingers; for truly we know not to employ our time in filling our hands with holy works, but suffer it without reflecting to pass through our fingers in matters of no substance or profit. But better did David declare this ill employment of time when he said, 
Psal. 89.  Our years did meditate, or as another lection hath it, Did exercis as the spiders; because Spiders spin not wool, or flax, but the excrements of their own entrails, consuming and dissembowelling themselves to wove a web, which they work with their feet of so slight a substance, that in a moment it is rend in pieces; and so little profit, that it serves for no other use, than to catch flies. The life of man is full of vain labours, vexations of various thoughts, plots, suspicions, fears and cares, in which it is wholly exercised and employed, linking and weaving one care into another, still troubling itself with more, being scarcely freed from one employment, when it entangles itself in another; and all so ill ordered and composed, as if they had been managed by feet instead of hands; still adding labour unto labour, and toil unto toil, as the Spider does one thread unto another; first thinking how to obtain what we desire, then how to keep it, after how to advance and increase it, then how to defend it, and lastly how to enjoy it: and yet in conclusion all falls to pieces in the handling, and becomes nothing. What labour doth it cost the poor Spider to wove his web, passing incessantly from one part unto another, and often returning unto the same place where he began, consuming himself with threads drawn from his proper entrails for the forming of his Pavilion, which with many journeys having placed on high, and at last finished this goodly artifice, one touch of a broom defaces and brings to ground all his labour. Just such are the employments of humane life, of much toil, and of little profit, robbing us of sleep, and filling us with cares and anxieties, spending the most part of our time in useless projects and vain imaginations, which of themselves fall to nothing, and in the end vanish without effect. For which reason David said, Our lives meditated as the Spiders, who labour and toil all day in making of Cobwebs; so the life of man passes in the continual cares and thoughts of what he is to be, what to endeavour, what to obtain, and all (as the Wiseman says) is vanity of vanities, and affliction of spirit; and for those things, which concern the service of God, we only sometimes afford them our thoughts, but seldom our works. With much reason did Aristotle say, that the hope of our life yet to come was like the dream of one who watches. And Plato in the same manner calls the life past a dream of people awake. For in this both humane hope and life resemble a dream, that neither of them have either being or subsistence; and there is no man who after a discourse within himself of his life past will not say, that dreams and truths are the same thing, since he possesses no more of what he once enjoyed, than of what he dreamt, all his delights and pleasures appearing so short unto him, t hat their beginning and ending seem to be joined together without a Medium.    

CAP. XIV.  
Time is the occasion of Eternity: and how a Christian ought to benefit himself by it.  
TIme, although short, frail and slippery, yet hath one condition most precious, which is to be the occasion of Eternity; since by it we gain that in a small time, which we are to enjoy for ever. For this reason when st. John said, that Time is at hand, the Gerek renders it, Occasion is at hand, because the time of this life is the occasion of gaining Eternity, and that once past and overslipt, there will be no remedy or hope left of obtaining the other. Let us therefore endeavour to employ our time well, and not lose the opportunity of so great a good, whose loss is irreparable, and will be lamented with eternal, but unprofitable complaints. Let us consider how great is the good which occasion brings along with it, and how the resentment which is usually caused by the loss of it, that we may from thence know how to profit ourselves by temporal occasions in order unto eternal happiness, and that we may be freed from that inconsolable and fruitless repentance of the damned, who have made no use of it. It is a great business this of our salvation, and depends wholly upon the swift time of this life, which once passed is irrevocable, and the end of it most uncertain: and therefore we ought with a hundred eyes to watch occasion that it overpass us not, and with a hundred hands to lay hold on it. The Ancients knowing the importance of it, feigned it to be a Goddess, thereby to declare the great good (when timely apprehended) which it brought unto mankind, 
In Epig. Graec.  whose Image they adored in this mysterious figure. They placed it upon a Wheel, which continually moved about: it had wings at the feet: to note the swiftness with which it passed: the face was not seen, but covered with long hair, which on the forehead grew thick and bushy, whereby was signified that it was hard to know when occasion happened, but being present easy to lay hold on it: the hinder-part of the head was bald, because once past, it had nothing whereby to retain it. 
Auson. in Epig.  Ausonius, to signify the effect which it leaves with those who suffer it to slip from them, adds that it drew behind it Metanaea, that is Repentance, which only remains with those who know not how to use it. 
Vide Joan. David in lib. de occasione arrepta. In Aph.  Others represented Occasion with hands busied in distributing riches and precious gifts, but accompanied with time in the habit of a Traveller, which not with two, but with four wings conducted it along, to signify the great haste with which it passed. Wherefore Hypocrates with much reason calls Occasion precipitate, because it runs with as great violence, as he falls, who throws himself headlong from a high rock. Let us place in the midst of Eternity the longest time of humane life; let it be a hundred, two hundred, or nine hundred years, as long as the light of man before the Deluge; yet it will then appear but as an instant, and he who shall cast his eyes upon the immensity of eternal duration, will remain astonished that a thing so short, so small, so precipitate should be the occasion of that, which is so long, so great and so stable. Since therefore the whole time of this life is so short for the gaining of Eternity, let us resolve not to lose it, especially since we have no assurance how long it will last: and although we were certain to live yet a hundred years longer, we ought not to spare one moment from the gaining of Eternity. But being uncertain how long we are to live, and perhaps shall die to morrow, how can we be so careless, as to let the occasion of securing our glory pass, which hereafter will never be offered? If a skilful Workman were commanded by some great Prince, that upon pain of death he should have in readiness some excellent piece of his work against such a time as it should be called for, and that although a years time were requisite to perfect it, yet it might perhaps be called for sooner, certainly that Artist would with all speed finish the piece, the neglect being no less than the forfeit of his life. Since than our life eternal consists in being furnished with the grace of God, and in preserving his divine Image engraven in our souls, how can we be so careless to let pass the occasion of our salvation?  
Theophrastus and Democritus called Time a most precious expense. Terence The first and most principal of all things. Zenon said that There was nothing which men wanted more, nor whereof they stood in greater necessity than time. Pliny made that account of it, that he would not so much as one moment of it should be lost: and therefore reprehended his Nephew for spending a short time in walking for his recreation, telling him that those hours might be better employed; and being present when the same Nephew caused one which in reading pronounced a word with an ill▪ accent to repeat it again, admonished him that too much time was lost in that useless repetition. Seneca esteemed time above all price and value, and in this manner says, Redeem thyself unto thyself; recover and preserve that time, which hitherto hath been taken, surprised, or slipped from thee. For whom wilt thou give me, that shall set a price upon time, or give a value unto a day, who understands himselt daily to die? If therefore the Gentiles, who had no hope by time to purchase Eternity, made so great account of it, what shall we Christians, unto whom it is an occasion of eternal happiness? Let us therefore hear St. Bernard. 
Serm ad. Scho.  There is nothing (says he) more precious than time. But out alas! nothing at this day is more vilified. A day of salvation is past, and no man reflects on it, no man thinks, no man complains that he hath lost a day, which shall never r●●rn. But as a hair from the head, so a moment of time shall not perish. The same Saint also grieving to see a thing so precious so much misspent, speaks in this manner. Let no man make a small esteem of the time which is spent in idle words. Say some, We may yet chat and talk until this hour be past. O wretched speech, Until this hour be passed! This being the hour, which the goodness of thy Creator hath bestowed upon thee, that in it thou mayest do penance for thy sins, obtain pardon, acquire grace, and merit glory. O lamentable speech, Whilst this hour passes! this being the hour wherein thou mayst gain divine mercy and commiseration. In another part he speaks much to the same purpose, exhorting us to benefit ourselves by the time. of this life. His words are these. 
Serm. 75. in Cant.  Whilst we have time let us do good unto all, especially since our Lord said plainly, that the night would come when no man could work. Art thou perhaps to find some other time in the world to come, wherein thou mayst seek God, and wherein thou mayst do good: This being the time wherein he hath promised to remember thee, and is therefore the day of mercy, because here our God and King hath long ago wrought thy salvation in the midst of the earth? go then and expect thy salvation in the midst of hell. What possibility dost thou dream of obtaining pardon in the midst of eternal flames, when the time of mercy is already past? No sacrifice tor sin remains tor thee being dead in sin; no more shall the Son of God be crucified for thee. Once he died, and shall now die no more. That blood which he spilt upon the earth, shall not descend into hell. The sinners of the earth have drunk it up. There is no part left for the devils, or for sinners, which are the companions of devils, wherewith to quench their flames. Once descended thither not the blood but the soul of Christ; This only visit made by the presence of the soul when the body hung without life upon the Cross, was the portion of them who were in prison. The blood watered the dry land, the blood was poured upon the thirsty earth, and did as it were inebriate it. The blood wrought peace for those who were upon earth, and those who are in heaven: but not for those which were in hell beneath the earth. Once only, as we have said, the soul went thither, and made in part redemption, (speaking of the souls of the Holy Fathers, who were in Limbo) that even for that moment the works of charity might not be wanting; but it passed no farther. Now is the time acceptable, now is the time fit wherein to seek God: And certainly he that seeks him shall find him; if so be he seek him, when, and where he ought to do. All this from St. Bernard.  

§ 2.  
Consider what an eternal repentance will follow thee, if thou makest not use of this occasion of time for the purchasing of the Kingdom of Heaven; especially when thou shalt see that with so little ado thou mightest have gained that everlasting glory, which to satisfy a short pleasure thou hast lost tor ever. In what to fury and madness was Esau, 
Gen. 19  when he reflected that his younger brother had gotten the Blessing of the first born by his own base selling his Birthright for a dish of Lentils? he cried out and tore himself for spite and anger. Behold thyself in this mirror, who for one vile and short pleasure hast sold the Kingdom of Heaven. If God had then thrown thee into hell, what wouldst thou have done but lamented that with eternal tears which in so short a time was lost? Cain when he perceived that he and his posterity were cursed and made infamous for not knowing how to benefit himself by that occasion, 
Gen. 9  which was first offered unto him, and made use of by his Brother, what resentment had he then, or aught to have had? Measure by this the sense of a damned person, who for not making use of the time of this light shall see himself cursed by God for an Eternity, and others far less than himself made blessed and rewarded in heaven. The Sons-in-law of Loath when they saw they might have escaped the fire, and that being invited they had rejected and laughed at the counsel of their Father-in-law, when afterwards they perceived it to rain fire and sulphur upon them and their Cities, what grief and vexation had they for refusing the benefit of so fair an occasion offered at their own doors? O what sorrow, what pain, what madness, what desperation shall seize upon a damned creature, when he shall call to mind how often he hath been invited by Christ to salvation, and shall now feel a tempest of fire and sulphur pouring down upon him for ever in hell? King Hannon who had so good an occasion to preserve that peace whereunto he was entreated and invited by David, when after he saw his Cities ruined, the Inhabitants burnt like bricks in a furnace, some thrashed to death, others torn in pieces, what would he have given to have made use in time of so fair an offer, or of holding friendship with so great a King? but what is this in respect of what a sinner shall feel, when he shall see himself burnt in hell fire, become an eternal enemy of the King of Heaven, and deprived tor ever of reigning with his blessed Saints? what despite, what grief of heart shall he then have? The evil Thief who was crucified with the Saviour of the world, what doth he now endure for refusing that good occasion which his companion embraced? what a repentance hath now the rich Glutton for not laying hold of so great an opportunity offered him at his own home, as Lazarus his demanding an alms from him, by giving of which he might have redeemed his fins? but he let it pass, being more inhuman than his dogs, who suffered not the poor Leper to departed without first licking of his sores, usiug mercy with him, with whom their Master used none. What will he now say when all things have failed him, even one drop of cold water to cool his scorched and inflamed tongue, and all for denying so poor an alms as the crumbs which fell from his Table? What madness, what spite, what despair do now torment him for refusing, when time was, so easy a means to gain his salvation.  
wherefore although it be true that the whole time of our life is an occasion of obtaining eternal glory, yet in the passage of life there are some particular actions and successes, upon which our salvation doth more especially depend, by which we do either disoblige God Almighty by rejecting them, or by embracing them oblige him (if I may so say) to favour us. Such a one was that of holy Joseph, who rather than he would offend his Creator, fled from his wanton Mistress, and left his Garment in her hands. This was an excellent act, by which he much obliged God Almighty, and deserved to receive those favours which were after bestowed upon him. In the same manner Susanna laid hold on a great occasion for the saving of her soul, when she chose rather to die, than to consent to the filthy pleasure, whereunto she was invited by those wicked Elders. No opportunity ought to pass us without showing ourselves quick and active in laying hold of it, greedy of pleasing God Almighty, obliging him by some brave and heroical act, with which occasion shall present us. Wherefore the Wiseman said, Be not defrauded of thy good day, 
Eccl. 14.  and let no portion of a good gift overslip thee. Tully defined occaon to be a part of time fitted for the doing of something. Mithridates said it was the Mother of all things which were to be done. And Polybius that which ruled all humane affairs. And there is no doubt but some conjunctures of times happen, which present us with great occasions of merit by working excellent virtues, and performing most heroical actions, which if made good use of, do much assure our salvation. Wherefore it is by some placed amongst the signs of predestination to have performed some great and noble action of virtue. Let us see what benefit some have made of occasion in temporal businesses, that we may not be less careful and solicitous in matters eternal. Rachel with what diligence did she run to hid and cover the Idols which she had stolen from her Father? with what diligence did Abigail go forth to meet David, omitting nothing whereby she might appease his fury? and certainly it she had protracted never so little time, she had run into evident danger of losing the lives of herself, her Husband, and Family. With what solicitude did Abrahan pursue the five Kings which carried away Captive his Nephew Loath? With what speed did Saul gather together his Army for the relief of Jabes Galaad? It behoves us no less to gain Heaven. Let us not be more dull and slow in gaining that, than they were in getting and procuring things of the earth. Let us hear with what diligence and haste the Wiseman advises us to accomplish the promise we have made unto a mortal man. 
Prov. 6.  My Son if thou shalt be surety for a friend, and hast struck hands with a stranger, thou hast ensnared thyself in the words of thy mouth, and art taken in thy own speeches. Do therefore, my son, what I say unto thee, and deliver thyself, because th●u art fallen into the hands of thy neighbour. Run, make haste, awake thy friend, give no sleep unto thy eyes, nor let, thy eyelids slumber: rid thyself from his hands, as the mountain-goat, or the bird from the hand of the hunter. Those who are engaged unto the Devil by their sins, let them mark with what diligence they ought to free themselves, without losing time or occasion; and those who are obliged unto God for his infinite benefits, and have passed unto him their promises of amendment, let them mark how they ought to satisfy them by making use of all means possible of being reconciled unto him: let them make haste, as the Wiseman says, let them not be tepid and slow, let them not give sleep unto their eyes, or close their eyelids, that they may without losing the least occasion escape from hell, and the slavery of Satan. Pity it is that any occasion should slip from us without benefit; a lamentable misery that our lives should pass away in the things of the earth without seeking after those of heaven, man's life being so short and narrow for the meriting of a thing so long and infinite as are the joys of eternity. With reason did the Apostle admonish us: This I say unto you brothers, Time is short; that which remains is, that those who have wives be as if they had them not, and those who weep as if they did not weep, and those who rejoice as if they rejoiced not, and those who buy as if they possessed not, and those which use this world as if they used it not, because the figure of this world passes. The Apostle considering the great shortness of time wills us so to settle ourselves in the matters of our salvation and of the other life, that we remain in those of this as strangers, using them as if we used them not.  
Let us consider then that if we suffer occasion in the short time of this life to overslip us, that all hope of remedy will fail us in the next. It is not void of instruction which is feigned by the Ancients, That Jupiter bestowed upon a certain person a Vessel filled with all sorts of goods and blessings: who overjoyed with the greatness of the gift, which contained all that was to be wished for, and impatient of enjoying them one by one, and every good in his proper time and season, would needs have them all at once. Whereupon he hastily and undiscreetly opened the Vessel; but they were no sooner discovercel, but all flew into the air and vanished, and for all the diligence and haste he was able to use in shutting it, he could retain none but Hope, which only remained behind. But far otherwise is it with the occasion of our salvation: which although it contains all happiness and blessings, yet being suffercd to pass, there remains not behind so much as hope, but in the place of it repentance, despair, and eternal sorrow, and so much the more in that it happens by our own faults. when King Joas smote the ground thrice, and was told by the Prophet Elizeus, that if he had smitten it six or seven times, he had ruined and utterly made an end of the Syrians, what grief and affliction did he conceive in his mind, that having had an occasion of so much happiness, he had not made use of it, although the misfortune chanced without his fault? But the miserable damned in hell, when they shall perceive that by their own fault they have lost the occasion of so great blessings as are those of heaven, it is incredible what grief and resentment shall possess them.    

CAP. XV.  
What is Time according to Plato and Plotinus, and how deceitful is all that which is temporal.  
THat we may yet better understand the smallness and baseness of all which is temporal, I will not pass in silence the description of Time made by Platinus, a famous Philosopher amongst the Platonics, who says that Time is an Image, or Shadow of Eternity. The which is conformable unto holy Scripture; not only unto that of David, when he says, that Man passes in a figure, that is, in time: but unto that of the Wiseman, 
Sap. 2.  who defines Time in these words, Our Time is the passing of a Shadow: The which is no other than the imperfect, movable, and vain Image of a thing consistent and solid. 
Job. 8.  Job also says, As a shadow are our days upon the earth. And the Prophet David elsewhere, My days have slided away as a shadow. And in many other places of Scripture the same comparison is used, to signify the swiftness of Time and the vanity of our life. Neither is it without mystery, that the same comparison is so often used in those sacred Writings. For truly few comparisons can be found more apt and proportionable for the expressing of what is Time and Eternity, than that of a Statue and the Swadow of it. For as a Statue remains for many years and Ages firm, stable, and , without increase or diminution, whilst the Shadow is in continual motion, now greater, now lesser: So is it with Time and Eternity. Eternity is firm, fixed, and , without receiving less or more. Time is ever moving and changing as the Shadow, which is great in the morning, less at midday, and towards night returns to its former greatness, every moment changing and moving from one side unto another. In the same manner the life of man hath no instant fixed, but still goes on in perpetual changes, and in the greatest prosperity is for the most part shortest. Aman the same day he thought to sit at the Table of King Assuerus, 
Esth. 3. & 7.  by whom he had been exalted above all the Princes of his Kingdom, was ignominiously hanged. 
Jud. 13.  Holofernes when he hoped to enjoy the best day of his life, was miserably beheaded by a woman. King Baltassar in the most solemn and celebrated day of his whole reign, 
Dan. 5.  wherein he made ostentation of his great riches and royal entertainment, was slain by the Persians. 
Act. 12.  Herod when he most desired to show his Majesty, being clothed in a rich habit of Tissue embroidered with gold, and by the acclamations of the people saluted as a God, was mortally struck from heaven. There is nothing constant in this life. The Moon hath every Month her changes: but the life of man hath them every day, every hour. Now he is sick, now in health, now sorrowful, now merry, now choleric, 
Sinesius him. 6.  now fearful: in so much as Sinesius not without reason compared his life unto Euripus, a Straight of the Sea, which ebbs and flows seven times in a day, as the most constant (which is the most just man) in the world falls every day seven times. The shadow wheresoever it passes leaves no tract behind it: and of the greatest personages in the world, when they are once dead, there remains no more than if they had never lived. How many preceding Emperors in the Assyrian Monarchy were Lords of the world, as well as Alexander: and now we remain not only ignorant of their Monuments, but know not so much as their names? And of the same great Alexander what have we at this day, except the vain noise of his fame? 
Venus Als●rsus & Kik●●ius de noviss. art. 4.  Let that Company of Philosophers inform us, who the day following assembled at his dead Corpse. One of them said, Yesterday the whole circumference of the world sufficed not Alexander; this day two yards of ground serve his turn. Another in admiration cried out, Yesterday Alexander was able to redeem innumerable people from the hands of death; this day he cannot free himself. A third exclaims, Yesterday Alexander oppressed the whole earth; and this day the earth oppresses him, and there is no footstep in it left by which he passed.  
Moreover how great is the difference betwixt a Statue of Gold or Marble, and the Shadow? That is solid, and of a precious substance: and this hath no being or body. In the same manner the life eternal is most precious and of great concernment, the temporal vain and miserable without substance. The Shadow hath no other being but to be a privation of the most excellent quality in nature, and of the most beautiful thing the world produces, which is the light of the Sun. In the same manner this life without substance or being is a privation of our greatest happiness. Wherefore Job said, 
Job. 9  His days fled away, and his eyes saw not what was good. This said he, who was a Prince, and possessed great riches, and many Servants, and a numerous Family: and yet he says that in his life he saw not what was good; which he might say with much truth: because the goods of this life are not to be called such, and if they were, yet the pleasure of them endures so short a space, as they are done before we are sensible of them; and if they should continue some time, yet being subject to end they are to be esteemed as if they were not. The which was confessed by a certain Cavalier called Rowland, 
Hist. de. S. Dom.  who having been present at a Feast celebrated with great cost and bravery to the high content and satisfaction of the invited Guests, at night when he returned home, cried out with much bitterness of spirit, Where is the Feast we had to day? where is the glory of it? how is this day passed without leaving any tract behind it? even so shall the rest of this life pass, without leaving any thing to succeed it, but eternal sorrow. This consideration sufficed to make him change his life, and the next day to enter into Religion. And as in a shadow all is obscurity, so this life is full of darkness and deceit. Whereupon Zacharias said, That men sat in darkness, and in the shadow of death. Much are we deceived whilst we live in this body of death, since this life, although short, appears long unto us, and being miserable, yet we are pleased and content with it: and being nothing, yet it seems as if it were all things; and there is not any danger which men undergo not for the love they bear it, even unto the hazard of Eternity. Doubtless this is the most prejudicial quality of temporal life, that having in itself no truth or reality, yet it paints and sets forth that false ware, which it hath, with much beauty and lustre to our perdition. Wherefore Aeschylus said, That it was not only a shadow of life, but also a shadow of smoke, which blinds and smuts, and is a thing so inconstant and vain; which is also suitable to that of David, when he said, That his days vanished like smoke and grew towards an end like a shadow; joining together the shadow and smoke, two things the most vain of any in the world. Even Pindarus exaggerates it yet more, saying, That it was no shadow, but the dream of a shadow; and what is it else but to dream, to persuade one's self that this life is long, and hope for prosperity in it? This certainly is the greatest deceit which is put upon man, and the chief cause of all his evils, that he suffers not himself to be persuaded what life is, and the shortness of it. For as the Shadow is nothing less than the Statue whole Shadow it is, yet appears like it, and is the figure of it: so although this life be most short, and nothing less than eternity, yet it looks like it, and unto us it seems as if it were eternal. This is a most hurtful and costly cozenage. For if life should appear what it is, and not lie unto us, we should not put our trust in it, nor make such esteem of those goods and blessings, which it promises, which in themselves are so deceitful and uncertain; but being as it is an image and a shadow, all which it proposes unto us, is but feigned and dissembled, promising great happiness, when it is only full of misery and calamity, although disguised in such manner as we know them not. How contented goes the Bride unto her Marriage Bed, and yet within a short time laments her unfortunate choice? with what gust does the ambitious man enter upon his office, which is but a Seminary of future sorrow and vexation? what joy do those riches bring along with them, which in the end are to be the death of the possessor? All is deceit, dissimulation, falsehood and prejudice: and yet we like frantic people are not sensible of our mischiefs. Unto how many infirmities is the body of a man exposed? with what imaginations is he afflicted and deceived? with how many labours and toils does he daily wrestle? with what thoughts and apprehensions doth he torment himself? what dangers of soul and body doth he run into? what fopperies is he forced to behold? what injuries to suffer? what necessities and afflictions? Nay such is our whole life, that it seemed unto St. Bernard little less evil than that of hell, 
Sermo de ascen. Domini.  but only for the hope we have of heaven. Our Infancy is full of ignorance and fears, our Youth of sins, our Age of sorrow, and our whole life of dangers. There is none content with his condition, but he who will die whilst he lives: in so much as life cannot be good, unless it must resemble death. Finally, as the Shadow is in such manner an image, as it represents all things to the contrary, so as he who shall place himself betwixt the Statue and the Shadow, shall perceive that that which is upon the right hand of the Statue, the Shadow represents upon the left, and what it has upon the left, the Shadow hath upon the right: so Time is in such manner the Image of Eternity, as it has all its properties to the contrary. Eternity hath no end: but Life and Time have a speedy one. Eternity hath no change: but nothing is more mutable than Time. Eternity suffers no comparison by reason of its infinite greatness: but Life and all the goods of it are short and little, and derived from the earth, which is but a point.    

THE SECOND BOOK OF THE DIFFERENCE BETWIXT THE TEMPORAL and ETERNAL.  

CAP. I.  
Of the End of Temporal Life.  
LEt us now consider how contrary unto the conditions of Eternity are those which accompany this our miserable life. Let us begin with the first; Which is to be limited and subject to an end. In the which two things are to be considered, The End, and the Manner of it, which perhaps is of more misery than the end itself. And truly although the end of life should fall under humane election, and that it were in the power of Man to make choice how many years he would continue in life, and after what manner he would then leave it, and that it might conclude some other way than by death or sickness, yet the consideration, that it, and all things temporal were to perish, and at last to have an end, were sufficient to make us despise it, and that very thought would drown all the pleasures and contents which it could afford us. For as all things are of greater or lesser esteem according to the length and shortness of their duration, so life being to end, be it in what manner soever, is much to be disvalue. A fair Vessel of Crystal, if it were as consistent and durable as Gold, were more precious than Gold itself: but being frail and subject to break, it loses its estimation; and although of itself it might last long, yet being capable by some careless mischance of being broken, it becomes of much less value. In the same manner our life which is much more frail than glass, being subject to perish by a thousand accidents, and though none of them should happen, could not long continue, since it consumes itself, must needs together with those temporal goods which attend it, be most contemptible. But considering that the ending of it is by the way of death, infirmities, and misfortunes, which are the Harbingers, and prepare the way for death, it is to be admired that Man, who knows he is to die, makes account of temporal felicity, seeing the misery, in which the prosperity of this world, and the Majesty of the greatest Monarches are at last to finish. Wherein ended King Antiochus, Lord of so many Provinces, 
1 Machab. 6. 2 Machab. 9  but in a disconsolate and mortal Melancholy: in a perpetual waking, which with want of sleep bereft him of his judgement; in a grievous torture in his belly, which forced him to void his very entrails; in a perpetual pain in his bones, that he was not able to move? And he who seemed to command the waves of the Sea, and that the highest mountains of the Earth hung upon his finger ends, whose Majesty was once lifted up above all humane power, could not then preserve himself in his own Kingdom, nor move one pace from the place where they laid him: he, who clothed himself in soft Silks, and pure Linens, he whose Garments were more fragrant than the most precious spices, cast now such a smell from his putrified members, that none could endure his presence; and being yet alive, his whole body swarmed with loathsome vermin, his flesh dropped away by pieces, and he above all remained distracted in his wits, raging with despite and madness. Let us now consider Antiochus in all his pomp and glory, glittering in Gold and dazzling the eyes of the beholders with the splendour of his Diamonds and precious Jewels, mounted upon a stately Courser, commanding over numerous Armies, and making the very earth tremble under him. Let us then behold him in his Bed pale and wan, his strength and spirits spent, his loathsome body flowing with worms and corruption, forsaken by his own people by reason of his pestilential and poisonous stink, which infected his whole Camp, and finally dying mad and in a rage. Who seeing such a death would with the felicity of his life? who with the condition of his misery would desire his fortune? See then wherein the goods of this life conclude. And as the clear and sweet waters of Jordan end in the filthy mud of the dead Sea, and are swallowed up in that noisome Bitumen: so the greatest splendour of this life concludes in death, and those loathsome diseases which usually accompany it. 
Act. 12. Vide Josephum.  Behold in what a sink of filth ended the two Herod's, most potent Princes, Ascalonita and Agrippa. This, who clothed himself in Tissue, and boasted a Majesty above humane, died devoured by worms, which whilst he yet lived fed upon his corrupted and apostumated flesh, flowing with horrible filth and matter. Neither came the other Ascalonita to finish his days more happily being consumed by louse: that nasty vermin by little and little bereaving him both of his life and Kingdom. 
3 Reg. 20.  King Achab, Conqueror of the King of Syria and 32 other Princes, died wounded by a chance-arrow, which pierced his body, and stained his Royal Chariot with his black gore, which was after licked up by hungry Dogs, as it he had been some savage beast. 
3 Reg. 22.  Neither died his Son Joram a more fortunate death, run through the heart with a sword, his body left upon the field to be devoured by birds and beasts of prey, wanting in his death seven foot of earth to cover him, who in life commanded a Kingdom. Who could have known Caesar, who had first seen him triumph over the Conquered world, and then beheld him gasping for a little breath, and weltering in his own blood, which flowed from three and twenty wounds opened by so many stabs? Who could believe it were the same Cyrus, he who subdued the Medes, conquered the Assyrian and Chaldaean Empire, he who amazed the world with thirty years' success of continued Victories, now taken prisoner and put to an ignominious death by the Command of a Woman? Who could think it were the same Alexander, 
Plut. in ejus vita.  who in so short time subjugated the Persians, Indians, and the best part of the known world, and should after behold him conquered by a Calenture, feeble, exhausted in body, dejected in spirit, dried up and parched with thirst, without taste in his mouth, or content in his life, his eyes sunk, his nose sharp, his tongue cleaving to his , not being able to pronounce one word? What an amazement is it that the heat of a poor Fever should consume the mightiest power and fortune of the world: and that the greatest of temporal and humane prosperities should be drowned by the overflowing of one irregular and inordinate humour?  
How great a Monster is Humane Life since it consists of so disproportionable parts, the uncertain felicity of our whose life ending in a most certain misery? How prodigious were that Monster which should have one arm of a Man, and the other of an Elephant, one foot of a Horse, and the other of a Bear? Truly the parts of this life are not much more suitable. Who would marry a woman though of a comely and well proportioned body, who had the head of an ugly Dragon? certainly although she had a great Dowry, none would covet such a Bed-fellow. Wherefore then do we wed ourselves unto this life, which although it seems to carry along with it much content and happiness, yet is in effect no less a Monster: since although the body appear unto us beautiful and pleasant, yet the end of it is horrible and full of misery? And therefore a Philosopher said well, that the end of things was their head: and as men were to be known and distinguished by their faces, so things by their ends; and therefore who will know what life is, let him look upon the end. And what end of life is not full of misery? Let no man flatter himself with the vigour of his health, with the abundance of his riches, with the splendour of his authority, with the greatness of his fortune: for by how much he is more fortunate, by so much shall he be more miserable; since his whole life is to end in misery. Wherefore Agesilaus hearing the King of Persia cried up for a most fortunate and happy Prince, reprehended those who extolled him, saying, Have patience; 
Plutar. in ejus vita.  for even King Priamus, whose end was so lamentable, was not unfortunate at the age of the King of Persia; Giving us to understand that the most happy were not to be envied, whilst they lived, by reason of the uncertainty of that end whereunto they are subject. How many as yet appear most happy, whose death will shortly discover the infelicity of their lives? 
Plutar. in Apoph. Graecis.  Epaminondas, when they asked him who was the greatest Captain, Cabrias, Iphicrates, or himself, Answered, that whilst they lived no man could judge, but that the last day of their lives would deliver the Sentence, and give each one their due. Let no man be deceived in beholding the prosperity of a rich man; let him not measure his felicity by what he sees at present, but by the end, wherein he shall conclude: not by the sumptuousness of his Palaces, not by the multitude of his Servants, not by the bravery of his Apparel, not by the lustre of his Dignity; but let him expect the end of that which he so much admires, and he shall then perceive him at best to die in his Bed, dejected, dismayed, and struggling with the pangs and anxieties of death; and if so he comes off, Well; otherwise wise the daggers of his enemy, the teeth of some wild beast, or a tile thrown upon his head by some violent wind may serve to make an end of him, when he lest thinks of it. This reason tells us, although we had no experience of it. But we see it daily confirmed by the testimony of those, who are already in the gates of death: and no man can better judge of life than he who stands with his back towards it. Mago, 
Dionysius Carth. de noviss. Art. 5.  a famous Captain amongst the Carthaginians, and Brother to the great Hannibal, being mortally wounded, confessed this truth unto his Brother, saying, O how great a madness is it to glory in an Eminent Command! The estate of the most powerful is subject to most impetuous storms, whose end is to be sunk and overthrown. O how wavering and uncertain is the height of the greatest honours! false is the hope of man, and vain is all his glory, affected with feigned and fawning flatteries. O uncertain life due unto perpetual toil and labour! what doth it now profit me to have fired so many stately and lofty buildings, to have destroyed so many Cities and their people? What doth it now profit me (O Brother) to have raised so many costly Palaces of Marble, when I now die in the open field, and in the sight of heaven? O how many things dost thou now think of doing, not knowing the bitterness of their end? Thou beholdest me now dying, and know that thou also shalt quickly follow me.  

§ 2.  
But let us forbear to look upon those several kinds of death, which are incident to humane nature. Let us only consider that, which is esteemed the most happy, when we die not suddenly or by violence, but by some infirmity, which leisurely makes an end of us, or by a pure resolution which naturally brings death along with it. What greater misery of man's life than this, that that death should be accounted happy: not that it is so, but because it is less miserable than others? for what grief and sorrow doth not he pass, who dies in this manner? how do the accidents of his infirmities afflict him? The heat of his Fever which scorches his entrails, The thirst of his mouth which suffers him not to speak, The pain of his head which hinders his attention, The sadness and melancholy of his heart proceeding from the apprehension that he is to die, besides other grievous accidents, which are usually more in number than a humane body hath members to suffer, together with remedies which are commonly no less painful than the evils themselves. To this add the grief of leaving those he loves best: and above all, the uncertainty whither he is to go, to heaven or hell. And if only the memory of death be said to be bitter, what shall be the experience? Saul, who was a man of great courage, oncly because it was told him that the next day he was to die, fell half dead upon the ground with fear. For what news can be more terrible unto a sinner, than that he is to die, to leave all his pleasure in death, and to give an account unto God for his life past? If lots were to be cast, whether one should have his flesh plucked off with burning pincers, or be made a King, with what fear and anxiety of mind would that man expect the issue? how then shall he look who in the agony of his death wrestles with Eternity, and within two hours' space looks for glory or torments without end? What life can be counted happy, if that be happy which ends with so much misery? If we will not believe this, let us ask him who is now passing the trances of death, what his opinion is of life. Let us now inquire of him when he lies with his breast sticking forth, his eyes sunk, his feet dead, his knees cold, his visage pale, his pulses without motion, his breath short, a Crucifix in one hand, and a Taper in the other, those who assist at his death bidding him say, Jesus, Jesus, and advising him to make an Act of Contrition, what will this man say his life was, but by how much more prosperous, by so much more vain, and that all his felicity was false and deceitful, since it came to conclude in such a period? what would he now take for all the honours of this world? Certainly I believe he would part with them at an easy rate. Nay, if they have been offensive to God Almighty, he would give all in his power he had never enjoyed them, and would willingly change them all for one Confession well made. Philip the third was of this mind, and would at that time have exchanged his being Monarch of all Spain, and Lord of so many Kingdoms in the four parts of the world for the Porter's Keys of some poor Monastery. Death is a great discoverer of truth. What thou wouldst then wish to have been, be now, whilst it is in thy power. A fool thou art, if thou neglect it now when thou mayst, and then wish it when it is too late. He who unto the hour of his death hath enjoyed all the delights the world can give him, at that hour what remains with him? Nothing; or, if any thing, a greater grief. And what of all his penances and labours suffered for Christ? Certainly, if he had endured more than all the Martyrs, he shall then feel no pain or grief of them all, but much comfort. Judge then if it shall not be better for thee to do that now, which thou shalt then know to have been the better. Consider of how little substance all temporal things will appear, when thou shalt be in the light of eternal. The honours, which they have given thee, shall be no more thine: the pleasures, wherein thou hast delighted, can be no more thine: thy riches are to be another's. See then whether the happiness of this life, which is not so long as life itself, be of that value, that for it we should part with eternal felicity.  
I beseech thee ponder what is life, and what is death. Life is the passing of a shadow, short, troublesome, and dangerous; a place, which God hath given us in time for the deserving of Eternity. Consider with thyself why God leads us about in the Circuit of this life, when he might at the first instant have placed us in heaven. Was it perhaps that we should here misspend our time like beasts, and wallow in the base pleasures of our senses, and daily invent new Chimeras of vain and frivolous honours? No certainly, it was not: but that by virtuous actions we might gain heaven, show what we own unto our Creator, and in the midst of the troubles and afflictions of this life discover how loyal and faithful we are unto our God. For this he placed us in the Lists, that we should take his part, and defend his honour; for this he entered us into this Militia and Warfare, (for, as Job says, the life of man is a warfare upon earth,) that here we might fight for him, and in the midst of his and our Enemies show how true and faithful we are unto him. Were it fit that a Soldier in the time of Battle should stand disarmed, passing away his time at Dice upon a Drum-head? and what laughter would that Roman Gladiator cause, who entering into the place of Combat should set him down upon the Arena and throw away his Arms? This does he who seeks his ease in this life, and sets his affections upon the things of the earth, not endeavouring those of heaven, nor thinking upon death, where he is to end. A Peregrination is this life; and what passenger is so besotted with the pleasures of the way, that he forgets the place whither he is to go? How comest thou then to forget death, whither thou travelest with speed, and canst not, though thou desirest, rest one small minute by the way? For time, although against thy will, will draw thee along with it. The way of this life is not voluntary like that of Travellers, but necessary like that of condemned persons from the prison unto the place of execution. To death thou standest condemned, whither thou art now going: how canst thou laugh? A Malefactor after sentence past is so surprised with the apprehension of death, that he thinks of nothing but dying. We are all condemned to die; how come we then to rejoice in those things which we are to leave so suddenly? Who being led to the Gallows could please himself in some little flower that was given him by the way, or play with the Halter which was shortly to strangle him? Since then all of us, even from the instant we issue out of our Mother's wombs, walk condemned unto death, and know not whether we shall from thence pass into hell, (at least we may,) how come we to please ourselves with the flower, or, to say better, with the hay, of some short gust of our appetites; since, according to the Prophet, all the glory of the flesh is no more than a little hay, which quickly withers? How come we to delight in riches, which oftentimes hasten our deaths? Why consider we not this, when we are certain that all that we do in this life is vanity, except our preparation for death? In death, when as there is no time nor remedy left us, we shall too late perceive this truth, when as all the goods of this life shall leave us by necessity, which we will not now leave with merit.  
Death is a general privation of all goods, temporal: an universal Pillager of all things, which even despoils the body of the soul. For this it is compared unto a Thief, who not only robs us of our treasure and substance, but bereaves us of our lives. Since therefore thou art to leave all, Why dost thou load thyself in vain? What Merchant, knowing, that so soon as he arrived unto the Ports, his Ship and Goods should both be sunk, would charge his Vessel with much Merchandise? Arriving at death thou, and all thou hast, are to sink and perish: why dost thou then burden thyself with that which is not needful, but rather a hindrance to thy salvation? How many, forbearing to throw their Goods overboard in some great Tempest, have therefore both themselves and Goods been swallowed by the raging Sea? How many who out of a wicked love to these Temporal riches have lost themselves in the hour of death, and will not then leave their wealth when their wealth leaves them, but even at that time busy their thoughts more about it than their Salvation? Whereupon St. Gregory says, That is never lost without grief, which is possessed with love. 
Humbert. in tract de Septemp. timore.  Vmbertus writes of a certain man of great wealth, who falling desperately sick, and Plate of gold and silver to be brought before him: and in this manner spoke unto his Soul; My Soul all this I promise thee, and thou shalt enjoy it all, if thou wilt not now leave my Body; and greater things I will bestow upon thee, rich Possessions and sumptuous Houses, upon condition thou wilt yet stay with me. But finding his infirmity still to increase, and no hope left of life, in a great rage and fury he fell into these desperate speeches: But since thou wilt not do what I desire thee, nor abide with me, I recommend thee unto the Devil: and immediately with these words miserably expired. In this story may be seen the vanity of Temporal things, and the hurt he receives by them, who possesses them with too much affection. What greater vanity than not to profit us in a passage of the greatest necessity and importance? and what greater hurt then, when they cannot avail our bodies, to prejudice our souls? That they put an impediment to our salvation when our affections are too much set upon them, were a sufficient motive not only to contemn them, but also to detest them. Robertus de Licio writes, that whilst he advised a sick person to make his Confession, and take care of his Soul, his Servants and other Domestics went up and down the house, laying hold every one of what they could; the sick man taking notice of it, and attending more to what They stole from him, than to what He spoke to him about the salvation of his Soul, made deep sighs, and cried out, saying: Woe be to me, Woe be to me, who have taken so much pains to gather riches, and now am compelled to leave them, and they snatch them from me violently before my eyes. O my Riches! O my Moneys! O my Jewels! into whose possession are you to fall? and in these cries he gave up the ghost, making no more account of his Soul, than if he had been a Turk. Vincentius Veluacensis relates also of one, 
Vincen. in spec. moral.  who having lent four pounds of money, upon condition, that at four years' end they should pay him twelve: he being in state of death a Priest went to him, and exhorted him to confess his sins, but could get no other words from the sick person than these: Such a one is to pay me twelve pounds for four, and having said this died immediately. Much what to this purpose is a Story related by St. Bernardin of a certain Confessarius, who earnestly persuading a rich man at the time of his death to a confession, could get no other words from him, but How sells Wool? What price bears it at present? and as the Priest spoke unto him, Sir for God's sake leave off this discourse, and have a care of your Soul, the Sick man still persevered to inform himself of such things he might hope to gain by, ask him, Father, when will the Ships come? are they yet arrived? for his thoughts were so wholly taken up with matters of gain and this world, that he could neither speak nor think of any thing but what tended to his profit. But die Priest still urging him to look to his Soul and confess, all he could get from him was, I cannot: and in this manner died without confession.  
This is the Salary which the goods of the earth bestow on those who serve them, that if they do not leave or ruin them before their death, they are then certain at least to leave them, and often hazard the salvation of those that dote upon them. O foolish Sons of Adam! this short life Is bestowed upon us for gaining the goods of heaven, which are to last eternally, and we spend it in seeking those of the earth, which are to perish instantly. Wherefore do we not employ this short time for the purchasing eternal glory, since we are to possess no more hereafter than what we provide for here? Wherefore do we not consider this? Wherefore busy we ourselves about Temporal things and the affairs of this life, which we are instantly to leave, and enter into a Region of Eternity? Less are a thousand years in respect of Eternity, than a quarter of an hour in respect of threescore years. Why are we then negligent in that short time we are to live in acquiring that which is to endure for a world of worlds? Death is a moment placed betwixt this life and the next, in which we are to traffic for eternity. Let us not therefore be careless, but let us remember how much it imports us to die well, and to that end let us endeavour to live well.   

§. 3.  
Besides all this, although one should die the most happy death that can be imagined, yet it suffices to behold the dead Body, when the Soul hath left it, how ugly and noisome the miserable Carcase remains, that even friends fly from it, and scarce dare stay one night alone with it. The nearest and most obliged Kindred procure it in all haste to be carried forth a doors, and having wrapped it in some course Sheet throw it into the Grave, and within two days forget it: and he who in life could not be contained in great and sumptuous Palaces, is now content with the narrow lodging of seven foot of earth; he who used to rest in rich and dainty Beds, hath for his Couch the hard ground, and, as Isaias saith, for his Mattress moths, and for his Covering Worms, his Pillows, at best, the bones of other dead persons; then heaping upon him a little earth, and perhaps a Grave-stone, they leave his flesh to be feasted on by the worms, whilst his heirs triumph in his riches. He who gloried in the exercise of Arms, and was used to revel at Balls and Festivals, is now stiff and could, his hands and feet without motion, and all his senses without life. He who with his power and pride trampled upon all, is now trod under foot by all. Consider him eight days dead drawn forth of his Grave, how ghastly and horrible a spectacle he will appear; and wherein differ from a dead Dog thrown upon a Dunghill? Behold then what thou pamperst; a Body, which shall perhaps within four days be eaten by loathsome vermin. Whereupon dost thou found thy vain pretensions, which are but Castles in the air, founded upon a little earth, which turning into dust the whole Fabric falls to ground? See wherein all humane greatness concludes, and that the end of man is no less loathsome and miserable than his beginning. Let this Consideration serve thee, as it hath done many Servants of Christ, to despise all things of this life. 
Alex. Faya to. 2. Joh. Major verbo Mors. Ex. 21.  Alexander Faya writes, that having opened the Vault, wherein lay interred the Body of a principal Count, they who were present perceived upon the face of the dead person a Toad of an extraordinary greatness, which accompanied with many other filthy and loathsome worms and vermin, was feeding upon his flesh: which caused so great a horror and amazement, that they all fled; The which so soon as it came unto the knowledge of the Son of that Count, who was then in the flower of his age, he would needs go and behold the spectacle: and looking seriously upon it he broke into these speeches; These are the friends, which we breed and provide for with our delicacies; for these we rest upon soft Beds, and lodge in gilt Chambers adorned with Tapestries, and make them grow and increase with the vanity of our dainties. Were it not better to prevent them by Fasts, and Penances, and Austerities in our life, that they may not thus insult upon us after death? With this conderation quitting his fair Possessions, and flying privately away, accompanied only with a lively desire of being poor for Christ, which he accounted for the greatest riches, he came to Rome, where chastising the body with much rigour, and living in the holy fear of the Lord, he at last became a Collier, and by his labour sustained his poor life. Finally, coming one day unto the City to sell his coals, he fell into a grievous sickness, which having endured with marvellous patience, he at last delivered his most happy Soul into the hands of his Redeemer: and that very instant of his death all the Bells of the City rung themselves; with which Miracle the Pope and the Roman Court being marvellously astonished, his Confessor related unto them all that happened, and informed them both of the condition, and sanctity of the dead person; and there being at the same time in Rome some Gentlemen and Soldiers belonging to the same Prince, who came in search of their Master, and finding him deceased, carried home his holy Body with much joy and reverence unto his Country.  
The Sight of the dead Body of the Empress' Donna Isabel, Wife unto the Emperor Charles the fift, wrought no less effect in the heart of Blessed Francesc● de Borgia, than Marquis of Lombay, who being appointed to wait upon the Coarse unto Granada, where it was to be interred, and being to deliver it bare-faced according to custom, to the end it might appear to be the same Body, he caused the sheet of Lead, wherein it was wrapped, to be opened, which immediately cast forth so horrible a stench, that those who were present, not able to endure it, were forced to retire; and withal the face appeared so foul and deformed, that not any of the attendants durst take their oath that that was the Empress' Body. Who sees not here the vanity of the world? what is of more respect and esteem than the Bodies of great Kings and Princes whilst they live, and now dead the Guards and Gentlemen which are to wait upon them fly from them? Who are accounted more happy than they who have the fortune to be near their persons? They are spoken unto upon the knee as if they were Gods, but being dead all forsake them, and even Toads, Worms, and Dogs dare approach and eat them. A good testimony of this was Queen Jezabell, whose pampered Body adored, whilst she lived, was being dead ignominiously torn in pieces by Dogs. But to return to our Story; The Marquis remaining alone behind the rest, began to consider what the Empress once was, and what he now beheld her. Where was the beauty of that face, but become worms and putrefaction: where that Majesty and gravity of countenance, which made all reverence her, and those people happy who beheld her, but now grown so hideous, that her most obliged Servants leave and abandon her? Where is now the Royal Sceptre, but resolved into filth and corruption? This consideration so changed his heart, that despising what was temporal, and now wholly seeking what was eternal, he determined never after to serve that Lord who was mortal.  
The very memory of the loathsomeness of a dead Body may serve to make us despise the beauty of that which is living, as St. Peter Damian advises us, 
Petrus Damianus in Gomor. c. 23.  saying, If the subtle Enemy shall set before thee the frail beauty of the flesh, send thy thoughts presently unto she Sepulchre of the Dead: and let them there see what they can find agreeable to the touch, or pleasing to the sight. Consider that poison which now stinks intolerably, that corruption which engenders and feeds worms. That dust and dry ashes was once soft and lively flesh, and in its youth was subject to the like passions as thou art. Consider those rigid nerves, those naked teeth, the disjointed disposition of the bones and articles, and that horrible dissipation of the whole Body: and by this means the Monster of this deformed and confused figure will pluck from thy heart all deceits and illusions. This from St. Peter Damian.  
All this is certainly to happen unto thyself. Wherefore dost thou not amend thy evil conditions? this is to be thy end; unto this therefore direct thy life and actions. From hence spring all the errors of men, that they forget the end of their lives, which they ought to have still before their eyes, and by it to order themselves for the compliance with their obligations. With reason had the brahmin's their Sepulchers placed still open before their doors, that by the memory of death they might learn to live. In this sense is that Axiom of Plato most true, when he says, That Wisdom is the Meditation of Death: because this wholesome thought of Death undeceives us in the vanities of the world, and gives us force and vigour to better our lives. 
Johannes Brom. in Sum. verb. Poenit. num. 12.  Some Authors writ of a certain Confessarius, who when all his persuasions could not prevail with his penitent to do penance for his sins, contented himself with this promise, that he would suffer one of his Servants every night, when he went to bed, to sound these words in his ear, Think that thou art to die; who having often heard this admonition, and and profoundly considered it with himself, he at last returned unto his Confessor, well disposed to admit of such penance as should be enjoined him. The same thing happened to another, who having confessed to to the Pope very heinous crimes, said, that he could not fast, nor wear hair-shirts, nor admit of any other kinds of austerity. His Holiness having commended the matter to God, gave him a Ring with this Poesy: Memento m●ri; Remember thou art to die: charging him, that as often as he looked upon the Ring, he should read those words, and call death to mind. Few hours after the memory hereof caused such a change in his heart, that he offered to fulfil what ever penance his Holiness should please to impose upon him. For this reason it seems God commanded the Prophet Jeremias that he should go into the house of the Potter, and that he should there hear his words. Well might the Lord have sent his Prophet into some place more decent to receive his sacred words, than where so many men were daily employed in dirt and clay; but here was the particular mystery, whereby we are given to understand, that the presence of Sepulchers, wherein is preserved as in the house of a Potter the clay of humane nature, it was a place most proper for God to speak unto us, that the memory of death might more deeply imprint his words in our hearts. For this very reason the Devil strives with all his power and cunning to obstruct in us the memory of death. For what other cause can be assigned why the mere suspicion of some loss or notable damage should bereave us of our sleep, and that the certainty of death, which of things terrible is most terrible, should never trouble us?    

CAP. II.  
Remarkable Conditions of the end of Temporal Life.  
BEsides the misery wherein all the felicity of this world is to determine, the end of our life hath other most remarkable conditions very worthy to be considered, and by which we may perceive the goods of it to be most contemptible. We will now principally speak of three. First, that death is most infallible, certain, and no way to be avoided. The second, that the time is most incertain, because we know neither when, nor how it will happen. The third, that it is bu● only one, and but once to be experienced, so that w● cannot by a second death correct the errors of the firs● Concerning the certainty and infallibility of death, it imports us much to persuade ourselves of it; for as it is infallible that the other life shall be without end; so it is as certain that this shall have it; And as the Damned are in despair to find an end in their torments, so are we practically to despair that the pleasures and contents of this world are to endure for ever. God hath not made a Law more inviolable than that of death. For having often dispensed in other Laws, and by his omnipotent power and pleasure violated, as I may say, divers times the rights of Nature, he neither hath nor will dispense with the Law of death, but hath rather dispensed with other Laws, that this should stand in force; and therefore hath not only executed the sentence of death upon those, who in rigour ought to die, but upon those, unto whom it was no wise due. In the conception of Christ our Saviour those established Laws of Nature, that men were not to be born but by propagation from men, and breach of the Mother's integrity, were dispensed with. God, that his Laws should have no force in Christ, working two most stupendious Miracles, and infringing the Laws of Nature, that his Son might be born of a Virgin Mother, was so far from exempting him from the Law of death, that death not belonging to him, as being Lord of the Law, and wanting all sin, even original, by which was contracted death, nay immortality, and the four gifts of glory, being due unto his most Holy Body, as resulting from the clear vision of the Divine essence, which his Soul ever enjoyed, yet all this notwithstanding God would not comply with this right of Nature, but rather miraculously suspended by his omnipotent Arm those gifts of glory from his Body, that he might become subject unto death; in so much as God observes this Law of Death with such rigour, that doing Miracles that the Law of Nature should not be kept in other things, he works Miracles, that the Law of Death should be observed even by his own Son who deserved it not, and unto whom it was in no sort due. And now that the Son of God had taken upon him the redemption of Mankind, for whom out of his most infinite charity it was convenient for him to die the death of the Cross, which reason failing in his most holy Mother, unto whom death was not likewise due from Original sin, she being privileged, according to the opinion of most Universities, as well in that as many other things by her blessed Son, yet would he not exempt her from that inviolable Law of Death. What enchantment than is this, that, Death being so certain, we will not suffer ourselves to understand it, nor be persuaded that it is so? Thou art to die: assure thyself of that. An irrevocable Law is this, and without remedy: Thou must die. The time will come, when those eyes, with which thou readest this, shall be burst and lose their sight: those hands, which thou now imployest, be without sense or motion: that body, which thou movest from place to place with such agility, shall be stiff and cold: this mouth, which now discourses, shall be mute without breath or spirit: and this flesh, which thou now pamperest, shall be consumed and eaten by loathsome worms and vermin. An infallible thing it is that the time will come, when thou shalt be covered with earth, thy body stink and rot, and appear more noisome and more horrible unto the senses than a dead Dog putrified upon a Dunghill. The time will come when thou shalt be forgotten as if thou hadst never been, and those that pass shall walk over thee without remembering that such a man was born. Consider this and persuade thyself that thou must die as well as others; that which hath happened to so many must happen also unto thee; thou which art now afraid of the dead, must die thyself; thou which loathest to behold an open Sepulchre where lie the half putrified bones and flesh of others, must putrify and rot thyself. Think upon this seriously, and reflect with thyself soberly how thou shalt look, when thou art dead; and this consideration will give thee a great knowledge what thy life is, and make thee despise the pleasures of it.  
Truly such is the condition of death, that although to die were only contingent and no wise certain, yet, because it might happen, it ought to make us very careful and solicitous. If God had at first created the world replenished with people, and some one, before it was known what death was, had fallen sick of a pestilential Fever, and should have suffered in the sight of the rest the accidents of that infirmity, those violent fits of heat, that scorching thirst, that restless unquietness of mind and body tossing and tumbling from side to side, that raging frenzy which bereaves him of his judgement, and at last they should behold him pale and wan, wholly disfigured, struggling with death, and giving the last gasp, the Body after to remain stiff, cold, and , how would they remain astonished with the sight of that misery? which would appear much greater, when after three or four days the Body begun to smell and corrupt, to be full of worms and filth. Without doubt a mortal sadness would seize upon them all, and every one would fear lest some such miserable condition might happen unto himself. And although God should say, I will not that all shall die; I will content myself with the death of some few, but should leave those uncertain, whom, this would suffice to make all to tremble: each one would fear lest he were one of those designed for that misfortune. If then in this case, death being uncertain, all would quake; because all might die, why remain we so supinely careless, since it is sure all must die? If death being doubtful cause such a terror, why do we not fear it being certain? Nay though God should further say, that only one of all those in the world should die, but did not declare who that one were, yet all would fear. Why then dost thou not now fear, when all men must infallibly die, and perhaps thou the first? But if God should yet further proceed to reveal that one appointed to die, and he should notwithstanding live in that lose and careless manner as thou now dost, how would the rest of the world admire his negligence, and vain temerity? what would they say? certainly they would cry out unto him, Man, thou that art to turn into dust, why livest thou in that lose man●er? Man, that art to be eaten by worms, why dost thou pamper thyself? Man, which art to appear before the Tribunal of God, why dost thou not think upon the account that shall be demanded from thee? Man, which art to end, and all things with thee, why dost thou make such esteem of vanity? We who are to live ever, well may we build houses and provide riches, because we look for no other life than this, which is never to end; but thou who art but in this life as a Passenger, and art to leave it to morrow, what hast thou to do to build houses? what hast thou to do with the cares and business' of this world? Wherefore dost thou take thought for those temporal things whereof thou hast no need? Care for those of the other life wherein thou art to remain for ever. Thou, thou art he whom God hath designed to die, why dost thou not believe it? or if thou dost, why dost thou laugh? why dost thou rejoice? why dost thou live so much at ease in a place where thou art a Pilgrim and not to rest? leave off the thoughts of the earth, and consider whither thou art to go. It is not fitting for thee to live here in mirth and jollity, but to retire into some solitary wilderness, and there dispose thyself for that terrible trance which expects thee.  
Let every man therefore say within himself, It is I who am to die and resolve unto dust; I have nothing to do with this world; the other was made for me: and I am only to care for that; in this I am only a Passenger, and am therefore to look upon the eternal, whither I am going, and am there to make my abode for ever. Certain it is, that death will come and hurry me along with him. All the business therefore I have now, is to dispose myself for so hard an encounter; and since it is not in the power of man to free me from it, I will only serve that Lord who is able to save me in so certain and imminent a danger. Much to this purpose for our undeceiving is that Story set forth by John Major. 
Johan. Major, & Alex. Faya. tom. 2.  〈◊〉 certain Soldier had served a Marquis for many years with great fidelity, for which he was favoured by his Lord with a singular respect and affection. The Soldier chanced to fall into his last infirmity, which no sooner came unto the knowledge of the Marquis, but he instantly came to visit him, accompanied with divers expert Physicians, and having enquired of his health, and spoken many things unto him of much comfort and dearness, offered himself to assist him in all things which might conduce to his health or content, and wished him boldly to demand what might be useful or available for him assuring him it should be granted without spare of cost or trouble. The sick Soldier after much importunity at last entreated the favour of three things, Either▪ that he would afford him some means to escape from death, which he perceived was now ready to seize upon him: Or that he would mitigate those great pains, which he then suffered, but for the space of one short hour: Or that after he was departed this life he would procure him a good lodging though but for one night and no longer. The Marquis answered, that those were only in the power of God, and wished him to demand things feasible here upon earth, and he would not fail to serve him. Unto whom the sick Soldier replied, I now too late perceive all my labour and travail to be lost, and all the services which I have done you in the whole course of my life to be vain and fruitless; and turning himself unto those who were present, spoke unto them with much feeling and tears in his eyes. My Brothers behold how vainly I have spent my time being so precious a jewel in the serving of this Master, obeying his Commands with much care and great danger of my Soul, which at this instant is the grief I am most sensible of: See how small is his power, since in all these pains, which afflict me, he is not able to give me ease for one hours' space. Wherefore I admonish you that you open your eyes in time, and let my error be a warning unto you, that you preserve yourselves from so notable a danger, and that you endeavour in this world to serve such a Lord, as may not only free you from these present perplexities, and preserve you from future evils, but may be able to crown you with glory in another life. And if the Lord by the intercession of your prayers shall be pleased to restore my health, I promise hereafter not to employ myself in the service of so poor and impotent a Master, who is not able to reward me, but my whole endeavour shall be to serve him, who hath power to protect me, and the whole world by his Divine virtue. With this great repentance he died, leaving us an example to benefit ourselves by that time which God bestows upon us here for the obtaining of eternal reward.  

§ 2.  
Let us now come unto the second condition, which is the Uncertainty of time in the Circumstances. For as it is most certain that we are to die, so it is most uncertain How we are to die: and as there is nothing more known than that death is to seize upon all, so there is nothing less understood than When, and in What manner. Who knows whether he is to die in his old age, or in his youth? if by sickness, or struck by a Thunderbolt? if by grief, or stabbed by Poniards? if suddenly, or slowly? if in a City, or in a Wilderness? if a year hence, or to day? the doors of death are ever open, and the enemy continually lies in ambush, and when we least think of him will assault us. How can a man be careless to provide for a danger which ever threatens him? Let us see with what art men keep their temporal things, even at such time as they run no hazard. The Shepherd's guard their Flocks with watchful Dogs, although they believe the Wolf to be far off, only because he may come: And walled Towers are kept by Garrisons in time of peace, because an enemy either has or may approach them. But when are we secure of death? when can we say that now it will not come? why do we not then provide ourselves against so apparent danger? In frontier Towns the Sentinels watch day and night, although no Enemy appears, nor any assault is feared; why do we not always watch since we are never secure from the assaults of death? He who suspected that Thiefs were to enter his house, would wake all night, because they should at no hour find him unprovided. It being then not a suspicion, but an apparent certainty that death will come, and we know not when, why do we not always watch? We are in a continual danger, and therefore aught to be continually prepared. It is good ever to have our Accounts made with God, since we know not but he may call us in such haste as we shall have no time to perfect them. It is good to play a sure game, and be ever in the grace of God. Who would not tremble to hang over some vast precipice, wherein if he fell he were certain to be dashed in a thousand pieces, and that by so weak a supporter as a thread? This, or in truth much greater is the danger of him, who is in mortal sin, who hangs over hell by the thread of life, a twist so delicate, that not a knife, but the wind and the least fit of sickness breaks it. Wonderful is the danger wherein he stands, who continues to the space of one Ave Maria in mortal sin. Death hath time enough to shoot his arrow in the speaking a word, the twinkling of an eye suffices. Who can laugh and be pleased whilst he stands naked and disarmed in the midst of his Enemies? Amongst as many Enemies is man, as there are ways to death, which are innumerable. The breaking of a vein in the body, The bursting of an Imposthume in the entrails, A vapour which flies up to the head, A passion which oppresses the heart, A tile which falls from a house, A piercing air which enters by some narrow cranny, Vn yerro de cuenta, A hundred thousand other occasions open the doors unto death, and are his Ministers. It is not then safe for man to be disarmed and naked of the grace of God in the midst of so many adversaries and dangers of death, which hourly threaten him. We issue from the wombs of our Mothers as condemned persons out of prison, and walk towards execution for the guilt which we have contracted by Original sin. Who being led to execution would entertain himself by the way with vain conceits and frivolous jests? we are all condemned persons who go to the Gallows though by different ways, which we ourselves know not: Some the strait way, and some-by by-paths, but are all sure to meet in death. Who knows whether he go the direct way, or winds about by turns? whether he shall arrive there soon or stay later? all that we know, is, that we are upon the way, and are not far from thence. We ought therefore still to be prepared and free from the distracting pleasures of this life for fear we fall suddenly and at unawares upon it. This danger of sudden death is sufficient to make us distaste all the delights of the earth. Dionysius King of Sicily, that he might undeceive a young Philosopher, who therefore held him to enjoy the chief felicity, because he wanted nothing of his pleasure, caused him one day to be placed at a Royal Table, and served with all variety of splendid entertainments, but over the place, where he was seated, caused secretly a sharppointed Sword to be hung directly over his head, sustained only by a horse's hair. This danger was sufficient to make the poor Philosopher to forbear his dinner, and not to relish one morsel of the Feast with pleasure. Thou then who art no more secure of thy life than he, how canst thou delight in the pleasures of the world? he who every moment expects death, ought no moment to delight in life. This only consideration of death according to Ricardus was sufficient to make us distaste all the pleasures of the earth. A great danger or fear suffices to take away the sense of lesser joys; and what greater danger than that of Eternity?  
Death is therefore uncertain, that thou shouldest be ever certain to despise this life, and dispose thyself for the other. Thou art every hour in danger of death to the end that thou shouldest be every hour prepared to leave life. What is death but the way unto eternity? A great journey thou hast to make; wherefore dost thou not provide in time, and the rather because thou knowest not how soon thou mayest be forced to departed? The People of God, because they knew not when they were to march, were for forty years which they remained in the Wilderness ever in a readiness. Be thou then ever in a readiness, since thou mayst perhaps; depart to day. Consider there is much to do in dying; prepare thyself whilst thou hast time, and do it well. For this many years were necessary; wherefore since thou knowest not whether thou shalt have one day allowed thee, why dost thou not this day begin to dispose thyself? If when thou makest a short journey, and hast furnished and provided thyself of all things fitting, yet thou commonly findest something to be forgotten, how comes it to pass that for so long a journey, as is the Region of Eternity, thou thinkest thyself sufficiently provided, when thou hast scarce begun to think of it? Who is there who does not desire to have served God faithfully two years before death should take him? if than thou art not secure of one, why dost thou not begin? Trust not in thy health or youth, for death steals treacherously upon us when we least look for it; for according to the saying of Christ our Redeemer it will come in an hour when it is not thought on. And the Apostle said, the day of the Lord would come like a thief in the night when none were ware of it, and when the Master of the house was in a profound sleep. Promise not thyself to morrow, for thou knowest not whether death will come to night. The day before the Children of Israel went forth of Egypt, how many of that Kingdom, young Lords and Princes of Families, promised themselves to do great matters the next day, or perhaps within a year after? yet none of them lived to see the morning. Wisely did Messodamus, who, as Guido Bituricensis writes, when one invited him forth the next day to dinner, answered, My friend, why dost thou summon me for to morrow, since it is many years that I durst not promise any thing for the day following? every hour I look for death; there is no trust to be given to strength of Body, youthful years, much riches, or humane hopes. Hear what God says to the Prophet Amos; 
Amos 8.  In that day the Sun shall set at midday, and I will overcast the earth with darkness in the day of light. What is the setting of the Sun at midday, but when men think they are in the midst of their life, in the flower of their age, when they hope to live many years to possess great wealth, to marry rich wives, to shine in the world? then death comes and over-shadows the brightness of their day with a cloud of sorrow; as it happened in the Story related by Alexander Faya. 
Alex. Faya To. 2.  Ladislaus King of Hungary and Bohemia sent a most solemn Embassage unto Charles King of France, for the conducting home of that King's Daughter, who was espoused unto the Prince his Son. The chief Ambassador elected for this journey was Vdabricas Bishop of Passaw, for whose Attendants were selected 200 principal men of Hungary, 200 of Bohemia, and other 200 of Austria, all persons of eminent Birth and Nobility, so richly clad and in so brave an Equipage, that they appeared as so many Princes; To these the Bishop added an hundred Gentlemen chosen out of his own Subjects; so that they passed through France 700 Gentlemen in company, most richly accoutred; and for the greater Pomp and Magnificence of the Embassage there went along with them 400 beautiful Ladies in sumptuous habits, and adorned with most costly jewels; the Coaches which carried them were studded with gold, and enchased with stones of value; Besides all this were many Gifts and rich Garments of inestimable price, which they brought along with them for Presents. But the very day that this glorious Embassage entered Paris, before they came at the place appointed for their entertainment, a Curriere arrived with the news of the death of the espoused Prince. Such was the grief that struck the heart of the French King with so unexpected a news, as he could neither give an answer to the Embassage, nor speak with the Ambassador or those who accompanied him; and so they departed most sorrowful from Paris, and every one returned unto his own home. In this manner God knows by the means of death to fill the earth with darkness and sorrow in the day of greatest brightness, as he spoke by his Prophet.  
Since than thou knowest not when thou art to die, think thou must die to day, and be ever prepared for that which may ever happen. Trust in the mercies of God, and employ them incessantly, but presume not to defer thy conversion for a moment. For who knows whether thou shalt ever from hence forward have time to invoke him, and having invoked him, whether thou shalt deserve to be heard? Know that the mercy of God is not promised to those, who therefore trust in him that they may sin with hope of pardon, but unto those who fearing his Divine Justice cease to offend him. wherefore St. Cregory says; The mercies of Almighty God forget him, 
Greg. in moral.  who forgets his Justice; nor shall he find him merciful, who does not fear him just. For this it is so often repeated in Scripture, That the mercy of God is for those who fear him. And in one part it is said, The mercy of the Lord from eternity unto eternity is upon those who fear him. And in another, As the Father hath mercy on his Son, so the Lord hath mercy on these who fear him. In another, According to the height from earth unto heaven▪ he has corroborated his mercy upon those that fear him. Finally the very Mother of mercy says in her Divine Canticle, That the mercy of the Lord is from generation to generation upon those who fear him. Thou seest then that the Divine mercy is not promised unto all: and that thou shalt remain excluded from it whilst thou presumest and dost not fear his justice. And where, I beseech thee, is the fear of his justice, when knowing that thou mayest die to day thou deferrest thy conversion for so many years, so as thy vices may be rather said to leave thee, than thou them? Mark what St. Augustin says; Repentance in death is very dangerous; for in the holy Scripture there is but one only found, to wit the good Thief, who had true repentance in his end. There is one found, that none should despair, and but one, that none should presume. For in a sound man repentance is sound, in an infirm man infirm, and in a dead man dead. Many deal with God, as King Dionysius did with the Statue of Apollo, from which when he took his Cloak of massy gold, he said, This Cloak is good neither for Summer nor Winter; for Summer it is too heavy, for Winter too cold. So some can find no time for the service of God Almighty; In youth they say, It is too early, and that we ought to allow that age its time of freedom and pleasure: that when they are old they will seriously think of virtue and amendment of life: that the vigour of youth is not to he enfeebled with the austerities of penance, which renders us infirm and useless the rest of our succeeding lives; But arriving at old age, if by chance they attain it, they have then many excuses, and pretend that they want health and strength to perform their penances. After this manner they would deceive God Almighty, but they remain deceived themselves. To the Apostle St. James this manner of speech seemed not well; To morrow we will go to such a City; and there we will stay a year, because we know not what shall be to morrow. If then in temporal things it be not good to say, I will do this to morrow, what shall it be in procuring the salvation of our Souls, to say, Ten or twenty years hence, when I am old, (which who knows whether ever shall be?) I will then serve God and repent? to what purpose defer we that until tomorrow, which imports so much to be done to day, especially since it absolutely imports, and perhaps will not be to morrow, if not to day? 
Aug. Confess.  In this error was St. Augustine, as he himself confesses. I felt myself (saith he) detained; and I often repeated these words, Miserable man, Until when? until when? To morrow, and to morrow. And why is there not to day an end of ' my lewd life? This I said and wept with most bitter contrition of my heart.   

§ 3.  
To this Uncertainty of death is to be added the Third Condition of being only one, and only once to be tried; so as the error of dying ill cannot be amended by dying well another time. God gave unto Man his senses and other parts of his body doubled; he gave him two eyes, that if one failed, he might serve himself of the other: he gave him two ears, that if one grew deaf, he might supply the defect by the other: he gave him two hands, that if one were lost, yet he might not wholly be disabled; but of deaths he gave but one, and if that one miscarry, all is ruined. A terrible case, that the thing which most imports us, which is to die, hath neither trial, experience, or remedy: it is but only once to be acted, and that in an instant, and upon that instant all Eternity depends, in which if we fail, the error is never to be amended. Plutarch writes of Lamachus the Centurion, that reprehending a Soldier for some error committed in war, the Soldier promised him he would do so no more; Unto whom the discreet Centurion replied, Thou sayest well, for in war the mischief which follows the first error is so great, that thou canst not err twice. And if in war you cannot err twice, in death you ought not to err once, the error being wholly irreparable. If an ignorant Peasant, who had never drawn a Bow, should be commanded to shoot at at a mark far distant, upon condition that if he hit it, he should be highly rewarded with many brave and rich gifts, but if he missed it, and that at the first shoot, he should be burnt alive, in what straits would this poor man find himself? how perplexed, that he should be forced upon a thing of that difficulty, wherein he had no skill, and that the failing should cost him so dear as his life, but especially that it was only once to be essayed, without possibility of repairing the first fault by a second trial? This is our case. I know not how we are so jocund; We have never died, we have no experience or skill in a thing of so great difficulty, we are only once to die, and in that all is at stake, either eternity of torments in hell, or of happiness in heaven; how live we then so careless and forgetful of dying well, since for it we were born, and are but once to try it? This action is the most important of all our life, the which is to pass in the presence of God and Angels; upon it depends all eternity, and if mist, without repair or amendment, Those human actions which may be repeated, if one miss, the other may hit, and that which is lost in one may be regained in another. If a rich Merchant has this year a Ship sunk in the Ocean, another may arrive the next loaden with such riches as may recompense the loss of the former. And if a great Orator miscarry in his declamation and lose his credit, he may with another recover it: but if we once fail in death, the loss is never to be restored. That which is but only one is worthy of more care and esteem, because the loss of it is irreparable. Let us then value the time of this life, since there is no other given us wherein to gain Eternity: Let us esteem that time wherein we may practise a precious death, or, to say better, both a precious life and death, learning in life how to die. It was well said by a pious Doctor, If those who are to execute some office, or perform some matter of importance, or if it be but of pleasure, as to dance or play at Tennis, yet study first before they come to do it: why should we not then study the art of dying, which to do well is an action more dfficult and important than all others? If a man were obliged to leap some great and desperate leap, upon condition, that if he performed it well he should be made Master of a wealthy Kingdom, but if ill, he should be chained to an Oar and made a perpetual Galleyslave, Without all doubt this man would use much diligence in preparing himself for so hazardous an undertaking, and would often practise before an action of so great consequence, from which he expected so different fortunes. How far more different are those which we expect from so great a leap as is that from life to death, since the Kingdoms of Earth compared with that of Heaven are trash and rubbish, and the tugging at an Oar in the Galleys, compared with Hell, a Glory? When the leap is great and dangerous, he who is to leap it uses to fetch his Career backwards, that he may leap further and with greater force. We therefore knowing the danger of the leap from life to death, that we may perform it better, aught to fetch our Career far back even from the beginning of our short life, and from our first use of reason, from which we shall know, that the life we live is mortal, that at the end of it we have a great debt to pay, and that we are to discharge both use and principal when we least think of it. St. John Eleemosynarius relates, that anciently when they crowned an Emperor, the principal Architects presented him with some pieces of several sorts of Marble, wishing him to make choice of such as best pleased him for his Sepulchre, giving him thereby to understand, that his Reign was to last so short a time, that it was convenient for him immediately to begin his Tomb, that it might be finished before his life were ended: and that withal he could not govern well his Vassals, unless he first governed himself by the memory of death. The others present were also admonished by this mystery, that so soon as reason began to command and have Dominion in us, that it was then time to provide for death, and that in the preparation for our end consisted the good government and perfection of life. A perfect life, saith St. Gregory, is the meditation of death: 
Greg. moral. 12.  and he enjoys a perfect life, who employs it in the study of death; he lives well who learns how to die well; and he that knows not that, knows nothing: all Sciences besides profit him but little. What did all that he had studied, and all which he knew profit the great Aristotle? nothing; which he himself confessed being near his death: For when his Disciples besought him, that having in his life time bestowed upon them so many fair Lessons and wise Sentences, he would leave them one at his death, This was his answer: I entered this life in poverty, I lived in misery, and die in ignorance of that which most imports me to know. He said well, for he had never studied how to die. Many Disciples hath Aristotle in those Sciences which he knew, and many which follow his opinions, but many more who imitate him in the ignorance he had of death.  
Let us husband Time, in which we may gain Eternity; which being once lost, we shall lose both the Time of this life, and the Eternity of the other. How many millions are now in Hell, who whilst they were in this world despised time, and would now be content to suffer thousands of years all the torments of the damned for the redemption but of one instant, in which they might by repentance recover the eternal life of glory, which is now lost without remedy? and yet thou casts away not only instants, but hours, days, and years. Consider what a damned person would give for some part of that time, which thou losest; and take heed that thou hereafter, when there shall be no repair of that time which thou now so lavishly mispendest, be not thyself in the same grief and bitterness. O fools, as many as seek vain etertainments to pass away the time, as though time would stand still, if they found not divertisements to make it pass. The time of this life flies and overruns thee, and thou layest not up for the other. Consider how thou mayest by Time gain Eternity; look not then upon the loss of it as upon the loss of Time, but of Etenity. Time, as saith Nazienzen, is the Market or Fair of Eternity. Endeavour then, whilst it lasts, to get a good bargain: for this life once passed there is no more occasion of traffic; the time appointed for storing up is but short, and the gain and profit is eternal. Hear what a Heathen teaches thee, who knew not this great good, that by Time might be purchased Eternity, and yet he says in this manner, Nature did not bestow Time upon us with such liberality, 
Seneca Epist. 118.  as that the least particle of it might be cast away. Consider how much Time is lost even to the most diligent; some part the care of our health takes from us, some that of our friends, some our necessary occasions; some our public affairs employ, sleep divides life with us. Of this then so short and rapid time which remains, what doth it profit us to spend the greater part in vain? 
Lib. de brevitate vitae.  The same Author advises us also that we strive to overcome the swiftness of time with our diligence in well using and employing it. If this be Seneca's counsel who had not the help of faith, and was ignorant that in an instant of time might be gained an eternity of Glory, what ought we to do, who have the light of heaven, the knowledge of eternal happiness, and the threats of eternal torments? Let us live ever dying, and let us think every instant to be our last: so shall we not lose this time which is so precious, and by which we may gain what is eternal. Let us call to mind what is said by St. John Climacus. 
Climac. gra. 6.  The present day is not well past, unless we esteem it to be the last of our life. He is a good man, who every hour expects death: but he is a Saint, that every hour desires it.  
At least let us behave ourselves as mortals, and let us believe we are so, showing by our works that we know we are to die. Let us ask that of God which was prayed for by David. Lord let me know the fewness of my days. It is apparent that we are to die; it is apparent that we know not when; it is apparent that we are die but once; but it is much more available, as St. Ambrose notes, when God saith it, and we discourse it in ourselves. Let us therefore practically persuade ourselves of this truth, and let not that time slip from betwixt our hands, which once past will never return. Let us blush at the counsel of a Heathen, Marcus Aurelius the Emperor, who advises us to proceed always constantly in virtuous actions. 
Anton. lib. 2. in princip.  Reflect, says he, upon the end of that time which is assigned thee, the which if thou shalt not spend in procuring the peace of thy mind whilst thou livest, it will pass away and never return unto thee being dead; every hour apply thy mind to mark seriously what thou takest in hand, and do it accurately with fortitude as becomes a Roman, with an unfeigned gravity, humanity, liberality, justice, and in the mean time withdraw thy mind from all other thoughts; which thou shalt easily do, if thou shalt so perform each action without the mixture of vain glory, as if it were the last of thy life. This is admirable counsel, that since thou knowest thou art to die, and knowest not when, that thou perform each action as if it were thy last, and as if in ending it thou wert to expire thyself. Above all let us endeavour to leave sin and evil inclinations: to leave the cares of the earth, and to elevate our whole heart and affections unto heaven, and there to place our thoughts, which are to be upright and settled in God Almighty. A crooked tree when they cut it down, falls that way it was inclined when it grew. If one do not bend towards heaven whilst he lives, which way can he fall in death? it is much to be feared into Hell.    

CAP. III.  
Of that moment which is the medium betwixt Time and Eternity, which being the end of Life is therefore most terrible.  
WE ought then seriously to consider (which is certainly a matter of great amazement) all which is to pass in that moment of death, for which the time of this life was only bestowed upon us, and upon which depends the eternity of the other. O most dreadful point, which art the end of Time and beginning of Eternity! O most fearful instant, which shutest up the prefixed term of this life, and determines the business of our Salvation! O moment, upon which depends Eternity, how oughtest thou to be placed in our thoughts with profit, that we may not hereafter (when it is too late) remember thee with repentance! How many things are to pass in thee? In the same instant life is to finish, all our works to be examined, and that sentence given, which is to be executed for all eternity. O last moment of Life, O first of Eternity, how terrible is the thought of thee, since in thee not only life is to be lost, but to be accounted for, and we then to enter into a Region which we know not! In that moment I shall cease to live, in that moment I shall behold my Judge, who shall lay all my sins open before me with all their weight, number, and enormity. In it I shall receive a strict charge of all the Divine benefits bestowed upon me: and in it a judgement shall pass upon me either for my salvation or damnation eternal. How wonderful is it that for so many matters, and of so great importance, there is no more time allotted than the space of an instant, no place left for reply, intercession of friends, or appeal. O fearful moment, upon which so much depends! O most important instant of Time and Eternity! Admirable is the high wisdom of God, which hath placed a point in the midst betwixt Time and Eternity, unto which all the time of this life is to relate, and upon which the whole Eternity of the other is to depend. O moment, which art neither Time nor Eternity, but art the Horizon of both, and dividest things Temporal from Eternal! O narrow moment! O most dilated point, wherein so many things are to be concluded, so strict an account is to be given, and where so rigorous a Sentence, as is to be pronounced, is ever to stand in force! A strange case that a business of eternity is to be resolved in a moment, and no place allowed for the intercession of friends, or our own diligence. It will be then in vain to repair unto the Saints in Heaven, or the Priests upon Earth; those will not intercede for thee, nor can these give thee absolution: because the rigour of the Judge in that instant wherein thou expirest allows no further mercy. 
Apoc. 20.  St. John says that Heaven and Earth shall fly from the presence of the Judge. Whither wilt thou then go, to what place canst thou repair, being the person against whom the Process is commenced? It is therefore said that Heaven and Earth shall fly away, because neither the Saints of Heaven shall there favour thee with their intercession, neither can the Priests of the Earth assist thee with the Sacraments of the Church. There shall be place for nothing that may help thee. What would then a sinner give for leave to make one poor Confession when it is too late? that which would now serve thy turn, and thou despisest, thou wouldst then have done and canst not. Provide thyself therefore in time whilst it may avail thee, and defer it not until that instant, wherein nothing can do thee good. Now thou mayest help thyself; now the Saints will favour thee; expect not that moment wherein thy own endeavours will be useless, and wherein the Saints will not assist thee. To the end we may frame a more lively conceit of what hath been said, 
Lib. 1. Epist. 10.  I will relate a Story, which St. Peter Damian rehearseth in an Epistle of his to Pope Alexander the second of that name: whereof the Saint says, it caused dread in him as often as it came to his mind. Thus it was, That two men going to fell wood in a Forest, there issued forth a Serpent, ugly and of a huge size, with two heads, and mouths of both open, thrusting out their tongues with three points or small darts in each of them, and seeming to cast out fire at his eyes set upon them. One of the two men of more spirit and courage, at the first assault of the Serpent, struck it with his hatchet, and cut off one of his heads: but unfortunately let fall his hatchet. The Serpent feeling himself wounded, full of fury and rage, took him at the disadvantage without his weapon, and roled his train round about his body. The miserable man cried out to his Companion for help, or at least that he would give him his hatchet to defend himself, or do some execution upon his enemy, that was now dragging him towards his Den. But his Companion was so cowardly, that he durst not any ways secure him, but affrighted and astonished fled away, leaving that wretched man in the power of the Serpent, which with great rage carried him to his Den without resistance, or any succour at all, notwithstanding the hideous out-cries and lamentations the poor Captive made. This History is but a slight draught of what a Sinner will experience in the instant of the departure of his Soul out of this life, when without any aid at all, or hope of it, he shall find himself at the mercy of the infernal Dragon, who will use him with all violence imaginable. St. Peter Damianus says, he could not express the horror this sad accident caused in him, insomuch that it made him tremble many times to consider what passed betwixt the Serpent and the man in that Den: there being no body to afford any help to the poor fellow in that distress, where neither his strength, nor cries could any ways avail him to decline the fury of that ugly Monster now ready to tear him in pieces. Wherefore if to be void of all hopes of temporal life, and to be in the power of a Serpent is a thing so dreadful, what fright and astonishment will it cause, when a Sinner in the instant of God's judgement shall see himself delivered over into the power of the infernal Dragon without all hopes of ever escaping from him, who will seize upon a Soul, and carry her to the abyss of hell? Let us call to mind with dread that which the holy Prophet feared and said of the Devil: God grant he lay not hold on my soul like a Lion, when there will be none that will set me at liberty, or relieve me. O what a lamentable thing will it be for one to see himself in the power of Lucifer, not only abandoned by Men, but also by the Angels, and by the Queen of Men and Angels, and even of God himself Father of all mercies! Let us provide ourselves in time for that which is to be done in a moment, on which depends our Eternity. O moment, in which all time is lost, if a Soul doth lose itself in it, and remains lost for ever, how much dost thou avail us! Thou givest an assurance to all the good works of this life, and causest an oblivion of all the pleasures and delights thereof, to the end that Man may not wholly give himself over to them, since they will then be of no benefit to him: and persevere in virtue, since it will not secure him, unless he persevere in it to the last.  

§. 2.  
How can men be careless seeing so important a business, as is the salvation of their Souls, to depend upon an instant, wherein no new diligence nor preparations will avail them? Since therefore we know not when that moment will be, let us not be any moment unprovided; this is a business not to be one point of time neglected, since that point may be our damnation. What will a hundred years spent with great penance and austerity in the service of God profit us, if in the end of all those years we shall commit some grievous sin, and death shall seize upon us before repentance? Let no man secure himself in his past virtues, but continue them until the end; since if he die not in grace all is lost, and if he do, what matters it to have lived a thousand years in the greatest troubles and afflictions this world could lay upon him? O moment, in which the just shall forget all his labours, and shall rest assured of all his virtues! O moment, in which the pains of a Sinner begin, and all his pleasures end! O moment, which art certain to be, uncertain when to be, and most certain never to be again; for thou art only once, and what is in thee determined, can never be revoked in another moment! O moment, how worthy art thou to be now fixed in our memory, 
In vit. PP. l. 5. p. 565. apud Rotsie,  that we may not hereafter meet thee to our eternal mine and perdition! Let us imitate the Abbot Elias, who was accustomed to say, That three things especially made him tremble; The first, when his Soul was to be plucked out of his Body; the second, when it was to appear before God to receive judgement; and the third, when sentence was to be pronounced. How terrible then is this moment, wherein all these three things so terrible are to pass? Let a Christian often whilst he lives place himself in that instant; from whence let him behold on one part the time of his life which he is to leave, and on the other the eternity whereunto he enters: and let him consider what remains unto him of that, and what he hopes for in this. How short in that point of death did those near-hand a thousand years, which Mathusala lived, appear unto him, and how long one day in Eternity? In that instant a thousand years of life shall appear unto the Sinner no more than one hour, and one hour of torments shall appear a thousand years. Behold thy life from this Watchtower, from this Horizon, and measure it with the eternal, and thou shalt find it to be of no bulk, nor extension. Sec how little of it remains in thy hands, and that there is no escaping from the hands of Eternity. O dreadful moment which cuts off the thread of Time, and gins the web of Eternity! let us in time provide for this moment, that we may not lose Eternity. This is that precious pearl for which we ought to give all that we have or are. Let it ever be in our memory, let us ever be solicitous of it, since it may every day come upon us. Eternity depends upon death, death upon life, and life upon a thread, which may either be broken, cut, or burnt, and that even when we most hope and most endeavour to prolong it. A good testimony of this is that which Paulus Aemilius recounts of Charles King of Navarre, 
Paulus Aemilius l. 9 A●cidita anno 1387.  who having much decayed and weakened his bodily forces by excess of lust, unto which he was without measure addicted, the Physicians for his cure commanded Linens steeped in Aqua vitae to be wrapped close about his naked body. He who sewed them, having nothing in readiness to cut the thread, made use of a candle, which was at hand, to burn it: but the thread being wet in those spirits, took fire with such speed, as it fired the Linen, and before it could be prevented, burnt the body of the King in that manner as he immediately died. Upon a natural thread depended the life of this Prince, which concluded in so disastrous a death; and no doubt but the thread of life is as easily cut as that of flax; time is required for the one, but the other is broken in an instant; and there are more causes of ending our life, than are of breaking the smallest twist. Our life is never secure, and therefore we ought ever to fear that instant, which gives an end to Time, and beginning unto Eternity.  
Wonderful are the ways which death finds out, and most poor and contemptible those things upon which life depends. It hangs not only upon a thread, but sometime upon so small a thing as a hair. So Fabius. a Roman Senator was choked with a hair which he swallowed in a draught of milk. No door is shut to death, it enters where air cannot enter, and encounters us in the very actions of life. Small things are able to deprive us of so great a good. 
Valer. Max. lib. 6.  A little grain of a grape took away the life of Anacreon: and a Pear, which Drusus Pompeius was playing with, fell into his mouth and choked him. The affections also of the Soul, and the pleasures of the Body become the high way unto death. Homer died of grief, and Sophocles of an excess of joy. Dionysius was killed with the good news of a victory which he obtained. Aurelianus died dancing when he married the Daughter of Domi●ian the Emperor. Thales Milesius beholding the sports in the Theatre died of thirst: 
Vid. Andream Eborensem de morte non vulgari.  and Cornelius Gallus. and Titus Etherius died in the act of lust. Giachetto Saluciano and his Mistress died in the same venerial action, and their bodies were both found conjoined in death, as their souls went jointly to hell. Upon small matters and unexpected accidents depends the success of that moment, upon which depends Eternity. Let every one open his eyes and assure not himself of that life which hath so many entrances for death; let no man say, I shall not die to day, for many have thought so, and yet suddenly died that very hour. By so inconsiderable things, as we have spoken of, many have died, and thou mayest die without any of them. For a sudden death there is no need of a hair, or fish bone to strangle thee, nor affliction of melancholy to oppress, or excess of sudden joy to surprise thee; it may happen without all these exterior causes. A corrupt humour in the entrails, which flies unto the heart without any body perceiving it, is sufficient to make an end of thee; and it is to be admired that no more die suddenly, considering the disorders of our lives and frailties of our bodies; we are not of iron or brass, but of soft and delicate flesh. A Clock though of hard Metal in time wears our, and hath every hour need of mending, and the breaking of one wheel stops the motion of all the rest. There is more artifice in a humane body than in a Clock, and it is much more subtle and delicate. The nerves are not of steel, nor the veins of brass, nor the entrails of iron. How many have had their livers or spleen corcupted or displaced, and have died suddenly? no man sees what he hath within his body, and such may his infirmity be, that although he thinks and feels himself well, yet he may die within an hour. Let us all tremble at what may happen.    

CAP. IU.  
Why the end of Temporal Life is terrible.  
DEath because it is the end of life is by Aristotle said to be the most terrible of all things terrible. What would he have said, if he had known it to be the beginning of Eternity, and the gate through which we enter into that vast Abyss, no man knowing upon what side he shall fall into that profound and bottomless depth? If death be terrible for ending the business and affairs of life, what is it for ushering in that instant, wherein we are to give an account of life before that terrible and most just Judge, who therefore died that we might use it well? It is not the most terrible part of death to leave the life of this world, but to give an account of it unto the Creator of the world; especially in such a time wherein he is to use no mercy. This is a thing so terrible that it made holy Job to tremble, notwithstanding he had so good an account to make, who was so just, that God himself gloried in having such a Servant. The Holy Ghost testifies that he sinned not in all what he had spoken in his troubles and calamities, which were sent him not as a punishment for his sins, but as a trial of his patience, proposing him unto us an example of virtue and constancy; and he himself protests that his Conscience did not accuse him; yet for all this was so fearful of the strict judgement which God passes in the end of the world, that amazed at the severity of his Divine Justice, he cries out in his discourse with the Lord, Who will give me, that thou protect and hid me in hell, 
Dionys. Rikel. artic. 16. de noviss.  whilst thy fury passes? Whereupon Dionysius Rikellius affirms, that that instant, wherein the Judgement of God is to be given, is not only more terrible than death, but more terrible than to suffer the pains of hell for some certain time, and this not only unto those who are to be damned, but even unto those who are elected for heaven. Since therefore Job, being so just and holy, quaked at the apprehensions of that Divine Judgement, when it was yet far from him, and when we use not to be so sensible as of things at hand, without doubt when a Sinner shall in that instant perceive himself to have displeased his Redeemer and Creator, although but in small faults, yet it will afflict him more than the suffering of most great pains; for which St. Basil judged that it was less to suffer eternal torments, 
Basil. hom. contra divites avaros.  than the confusion of that day: and therefore pondering that reprehension given unto the rich man in the Gospel, Fool this night thy Soul shall be taken from thee. Whose then shall be the riches which thou hast gotten? the Saint avers that this mock, this taunt did exceed an eternal punishment.  
Death is terrible for many weighty reasons, and every one sufficient to cause in us a mortal fear, whereof not the least is the sight of the offended Judge, who is not only Judge but Party, and a most irrefragable Witness, in whose visage shall then appear such a severity against the wicked, that St. Austin says, he had rather suffer all manner of torments, than to behold the face of his angry Judge. And St. chrysostom saith. 
Chrys. homi. 24. in Math.  It were better to be struck with a thousand Thunderbolts, than to behold that countenance so meek and full of sweetness estranged from us, and those eyes of peace and mildness not enduring to behold us. The only sight of an Image of Christ crucified, 
Rad. in opusc. & in annuis Societ.  which appeared with wrathful and incensed eyes, although in this life when the field of mercy is open, was sufficient so to astonish three hundred persons who beheld it, that they fell unto the ground senseless and without motion, and so continued for the space of some hours. How will it then amaze us, when we shall behold not a dead Image, but Jesus Christ himself alive, not in the humility of the Cross, but upon a Throne of Majesty and Seat of Justice; not in a time of mercy, but in the hour of vengeance; not naked with pierced hands, but armed against Sinners with the Sword of Justice, when he shall come to judge and revenge the injuries which they have done him? God is as righteous in his justice, as in his mercy; and as he hath allotted a time for mercy, so he will for justice; and as in this life the rigour of his justice is as it were repressed and suspended, so in that point of death, when the Sinner shall receive judgement, it shall be let lose, and overwhelm him. A great and rapid river, which should for 30 or 40 years together have its current violently stopped, what a mass of waters would it collect in so long a space; and if it should then be let lose, with what fury would it overrun, and bear down all before it, and what resistance could withstand it? Since then the Divine justice, 
Dan. 7.  which the Prophet Daniel compares not to an ordinary River, but to a River of fire for the greatness and severity of the rigour, shall be repressed for 30 or 40 years during the life of a man, what an infinity of wrath will it amass together, and with what fury will it burst out upon the miserable Sinners in the point of death? All this rigour and severity shall the wretched Caitiff behold in the face of the offended Judge. And therefore the Prophet Daniel saith that a River of fire issued from his Countenance, and that his Throne was of flames, and the wheels of it burning fire, because all shall then be fire, rigour and justice. He sets forth unto us his Tribunal and Throne with wheels, to signify thereby the force and violence of his omnipotency in executing the severity of his justice: all which shall appear in that moment, when Sinners shall be brought into judgement, when the Lord (as David says) shall speak unto them in his wrath and confound them in his fury.  
The which is also declared by other Prophets in most terrible and threatening words. 
Isai. 56.  Isaias saith, The Lord will come clothed in garments of vengeance, and covered with a robe of zeal; and will give unto his adversaries his indignation, and his enemies shall have their turn. And the Wiseman to declare it more fully saith, His zeal, that is, his indignation, shall take up arms, and shall arm the creatures to revenge him of his enemies: he shall put on justice as a breastplate: be shall take the bead-piece of righteous judgement, and embrace the inexpugnable shield of equity, and shall sharpen his wrath as a lance. 
Osee 13.  The Prophet Osee declares the same, proposing the Judge unto us, not only as an enraged and armed man, but a fierce and cruel Beast; and therefore speaking in the person of God, saith, I will appear unto them in that instant at a Bear that hath been rob of her whelps; I will tear their entrails in pieces, and will devour them as a Lyon. There is no beast more fierce of nature than a Lion, or Bear which hath lost her young ones, the which will furiously assault him she first meets with: and yet God, whose nature is infinite goodness, would compare himself unto so savage and cruel beasts to express the terror of his justice and rigour, with which he is in that day to show himself against Sinners. The consideration of this wrought so much with Abbot Agathon, when he was at the point of dying, 
In vitis Pat.  that he continued three days in admiration, his eyes for fear and dread continually broad open without moving from one side to the other. Certainly all comparisons and exaggerations fall short of what it shall be, since that day is The day of wrath and calamity. That is the day when the Lord shall speak aloud in lieu of the many days wherein he hath been silent. That is the day of which he spoke by his Prophet, I held my peace and was mute, but I will then cry out as a woman in labour. That day shall take up all his justice, and shall recompense for all his years of sufferance. That day shall be purely of justice without mixture of mercy, hope of compassion, help, favour, or any other patronage but of our works. This is signified in that which Daniel saith, that the Throne and Tribunal of God was of flames, and that there shall proceed from his face a river of fire; because fire, besides that it is the most active, nimble, and vehement of all the Elements, is also the most pure, not admitting the mixture of any thing. The earth contains Mines of Metals, and Quarries of Stone: the water suffers in her bosom variety of Fishes: the Air multitudes of vapours, and exhalations and other bodies; but Fire endures nothing, it melts the hardest, metals, reduces stones into cinders, consumes living creatures, converts trees into itself, in so much as it is not only impatient of a companion, but infuses its own qualities into what it meets withal, and turns even what is contrary unto it into its own substance and nature; it does not only melt snow, but makes it boil, and makes cold iron burn. So shall it be in that day: all shall be rigour and justice without mixture of mercy; nay the very mercies, which God hath used towards a Sinner, shall then be an argument and food for his justice.  
O man, which hast now time, consider in what condition thou shalt see thyself in that instant, when neither the blood of Christ shed for thee, nor the Son of God crucified, nor the intercession of the most blessed Virgin, nor the Prayers of Saints, nor the Divine mercy itself shall avail thee, but shall only behold an incensed and revenging God, whose mercies shall then only serve to augment his justice. Thou shalt then perceive that none will take thy part, but all will be against thee. The most holy Virgin who is the Mother of mercy, the mercy of God himself, and the blood of thy Redeemer will all be against thee; and only thy good works shall stand for thee. This life once past thou art to expect no Patron, no Protector, but thy virtuous actions, only they shall accompany thee, and when thy Angel Guardian, 
Theophan. an. 20. Herac. Imper. ut habetur in tom. 2. p. 2. Concil. in notis ad vitam Theodori Papae.  and all the Saints thy Advocates shall leave thee, they only shall not forsake thee. See that thou provide thyself for that day, take care thou now benefit thyself by the blood of Christ for thy salvation; if not, it will only serve for thy greater damnation. The whole world was amazed at the manner of the condemnation of Pyrrhus the Heretic by Pope Theod●rus, who calling a Council at Rome, and placing himself close by the body of St. Peter, in the presence of the whole Assembly took the consecrated Chalice, and pouring the blood of Christ into the Ink, did with his own hand write the Sentence of excommunion and Anathema, by which he separated Pyrrhus from the Church of Christ. This dreadful manner of proceeding brought a fear upon all those who heard it. Do thou then tremble, unto whom it may happen, that the blood of thy Redeemer shall only serve as a Sentence of thy eternal death. For so severe will the Divine justice be in that day against a Sinner, that if it were needful for his condemnation to confirm the Sentence with the blood of Christ, it should (although once shed upon the Cross for his salvation) then only serve to his damnation and eternal reprobation. If this be true, (as nothing can be more certain,) how come we to be so careless? how come we to laugh and rejoice? 
In vitis Pat. lib. 5.  With great reason an old Hermit in the Desert, beholding another laugh, reprehended him for it, saying, We are to give a strict account before the Lord of Heaven and Earth, the most inflexible Judge, and darest thou be merry? How dare that Sinner laugh, since that instant will come, wherein it will not profit him to weep? why does he not now with tears ask pardon for his sins, when after death he cannot obtain it? There shall be then no mercy, no remedy, no protection from God or man, no defence but what each man hath from his own works. Let us then endeavour they may be good ones, since we have nothing in the other life to trust to but them. The rich man shall not then have multitudes of Servants to set forth his greatness and authority, nor well-feed Lawyers to defend his process: only his good works shall bestead him, and they only shall defend him; and in that instant, when even the mercy of God shall fail him, and the blood of Christ shall not appease the Divine justice, only his good works shall not fail him; then, when their treasures, which have been heaped up in this world, and guarded with so much care, shall fail their Masters, their alms bestowed on the poor shall not fail them; there, when their Children, Kindred, Friends and Servants shall all fail them, the Strangers which they have lodged, the Sick which they have visited in the Hospitals, and the needy which they have succoured shall not fail them. The rich man is to leave his wealth behind him without knowing who shall possess it 〈◊〉 his good works shall go along with him, and they only, when nothing else can, shall avail him; neither shall Christ, who is the Judge of the living and the dead, at that time admit of other Patrons or Advocates. Let us then take heed we turn not those against us, which are only at that dreadful time to bestead us.  
It is to be admired how many dare do ill in the presence of that Judge, with whom nothing can prevail but doing well; and the wonder is much the greater that we dare with our evil works offend him, who is to judge them. The Thief is not so impudent as to rob his neighbour, if the Magistrate look on, but would be held a fool, if he should rob or offend the Magistrate himself in his own house: How dares then this poor thing of man injure the very person of his most upright and just Judge (before whom it is most certain he shall appear) to his face, in his own house, in so high a manner as to prefer the Devil, his and our greatest enemy, before him? How great was the malice of the Jews, when they judged it fit that Barrabas should live, than the Son of God? Let the Sinner then consider his own insolence, who judges it better to please the Devil, than Christ his Redeemer. Every one who sins makes as it were a Judgement, and passes a Sentence in favour of Satan against Jesus Christ. Of this unjust Judgement of man the Son of God, who is most unjustly sentenced by a Sinner, will at the last day take a most strict and severe account. Let him expect from his own injustice how great is to be the Divine justice against him. Let a Christian therefore consider that he hath not now his own but the cause of Christ in hand. Let him take heed how he works, since all his actions are to be viewed and reviewed by his Redeemer. An Artist who knew his work was to appear before some King, or to be examined by some great Master in the same art, would strive to give it the greatest perfection of his skill. Since therefore all our works are to appear before the King of Heaven, and the chief Master of virtues Jesus Christ, let us endeavour that they may be perfect and complete, and the rather because he is not to examine them for curiosity, but to pass upon us a Sentence, either of condemnation or eternal happiness. Let us then call to mind that we are to give an account unto God Almighty, and let us therefore take heed what we do; let us weep for what is amiss; let us forsake our sins, and strive to do virtuous actions; let us look upon ourselves as guilty offenders: and let us stand in perpetual fear of the Judge, as Abbot Amno advises us; of whom it is reported in the Book of the lives of Fathers translated by Pelagius the Cardinal, 
In vitis Pat. lib. 5.  That being demanded by a young Monk, what he should do that might most profit him, answered, Entertain the same thoughts with the Malefactors in prison, who are still enquiring, Where is the Judge? When will he come? every hour expecting their punishment, and weeping for their misdemeanours. In this manner ought the Christian ever to be in fear and anxiety, still reprehending himself, and saying, Ay me! wretch that I am, how shall I appear before the Tribunal of Christ? how shall I be able to give an account of all my actions? If thou shalt always have these thoughts, thou mayest be saved, and shalt not fail of obtaining what thou demandest towards thy salvation: and all will be little enough. 
Climac. gra. 6.  St. John Climacus writes of a certain Monk who had lived long with small fervour and edification, who falling into a grievous infirmity, wherein he remained some space without sense or feeling, was during that time brought before the Tribunal of God, and from thence returned unto life, wherein he continued ever after in that fear and astonishment, that he caused the door of his little Cell, which was so small and narrow, that he had scarce room to move in it, to be stopped up, there remained as it were enclosed in prison the space of twelve years, during which time he never spoke with any, nor fed upon other than bread and water, but sat ever meditating upon what he had seen in that rapture: wherein his thoughts were so intent, as he never moved his eyes from the place where they were fixed, but persevering still in his silence and astonishment could not contain the tears from abundantly flowing down his aged face. At last (saith the Saint) his death now drawing near, we broke open the door, and entered into his Cell, and having asked him in all humility, that he would say something unto us of instruction, all we could obtain from him was this: Pardon me Fathers, He who knew what it were truly and with his whole heart to think upon death, would never have the boldness to sin. The rigour of Divine Judgement which is to pass after death occasioned in this Monk so great change and penitence of life.  

§ 2.  
The second cause of the terribleness of death, which is the laying open of all wherein we have offended in this life.  
ANother thing of great horror is to happen in the end of life, which shall make that hour, wherein the Soul expires, most horrible unto sinners, and That is the sight of their own sins; whose deformity and multitude shall then clearly and distinctly appear unto them; and although now we remain in ignorance of many, and see the guilt of none, they shall then, when we leave this life, fully discover themselves as they are both in number and quality. This is also signified unto us by the Prophet Daniel, when he says, That the Throne of the Tribunal of God was of flaming fire: whose nature is not only to burn, but to enlighten; and therefore in that Divine Judgement shall not only be executed the rigour of his justice, but the ugliness likewise of humane malice shall be discovered. The Judge himself shall not only appear severe and implacable, but our sins shall be laid open before us, and the sight of them shall make us quake and tremble with fear and astonishment; especially when we shall perceive them to be manifest unto him who is both Judge and Party. Wherefore it is said in one of the Psalms, We are dismayed, O Lord, with thy wrath, 
Psal. 89.  and troubled with thy fury: and immediately giving the reason of that trouble, he saith, because thou hast set our wickedness before thee, and placed them in thy sight. The monstrousness of sin is now covered, and we perceive it not, and are not therefore much troubled; but in that instant of death, when the ugliness of it shall appear, the very sight of it will wholly confound us. Our sins now seem unto us but light and trivial, and we see not half of them: but in our leaving of this life we shall find them heavy, grievous and unsupportable. A great Beam, whilst it floats upon the river, a child may move and draw it from place to place, and the half of it remains hidden and covered below the waters: but draw it to land, many men will not suffice to remove it, and the whole bulk of it will be then clearly discovered; so in the waters of this tempestuous and unstable life our faults appear not heavy, and the half of them are concealed from us: but this life once ended, we shall then feel their weight, discover their bulk, and shall groan under so heavy and grievous a burden.  
These doubtless are the two swords which then shall mortally wound the conscience of a sinner: First when he shall perceive the innumerable multitude of his sins, and Then their monstrous deformity. And to begin with their multitude, how shall he remain amazed, when he shall see a number of his actions to be sins, which he never thought to be such: and which is more, when he shall find that to be a fault, which he thought to be a laudable work? For this it is said in one of the Psalms, when I shall take time, I will judge righteousness; for many actions which in the eyes of men seem virtues, will then be found vices in the sight of God. If in humane judgements there be so great a difference, that young men, and those that follow the world, often esteem that for a virtue, which the wise and ancient repute as an error, how different shall be the divine judgement from that of men, since the holy Ghost saith by his Prophet, that the Judgements of God are a great Abyss, and that his thoughts are as far distant from the thoughts of men, as heaven is from earth? And if spiritual men are so clear sighted, that they condemn with truth what worldlings praise, what shall be those Divine eyes, which are able to perceive a stain in what appears Angelical purity? And if, as the Scripture says, he found wickedness in the Angels, what vice can remain hid in the Sons of men? Our Lord himself saith by one of his Prophets, I will search Jerusalem with a candle. If so strict enquiry be to be made in the holy City of Jerusalem, what shall be in Babylon? If God shall use such rigour with the just, how shall he dissemble with his enemies? Then shall be brought to light the works which we have done, and those which we have left undone: the evil of that action which we have committed, and the good of that which we have omitted. Neither is there account to be taken only of the evils which we do, but of the good also which we do not well; all will be strictly searched and narrowly looked into, and must pass by many eyes. The Devil, as our accuser, shall frame the Process of our whole life, and shall accuse us of all he knows; and if any thing shall escape his knowledge, it shall not therefore be concealed; for our own Conscience shall cry out and accuse us of it; and lest out Conscience might flatter us, or be ignorant of some faults, our Angel-Guardian, who is now our Governor and Tutor, shall then be the Fiscal and Accuser, calling for Divine justice against us, and shall discover what our own Souls are ignorant of. And if the Devil, our Conscience, and Angel-Guardian shall fail in any thing as not knowing all, the Judge himself, who is both Party and Witness, and whose Divine knowledge penetrates into the bottom of our wills, shall there declare many things for vices, which were here esteemed for virtues. O strange way of Judgement, where none denies, and all accuse, even the offender accuses himself; and where all are Witnesses, even the Judge and Party! O dreadful Judgement where there is no Advocate, and four Accusers, the Devil, thy Conscience, thy Angel-Guardian, and thy very. Judge, who will accuse thee of many things which thou thoughtest to have alleged for thy defence!  
O how great shall then be the confusion, when that shall be found a sin which was thought a service! who would have imagined but that Oza, when he upheld the Ark in danger of falling, had rather done a laudable action, than an offence? yet the Lord chastized it as a great sin with the punishment of a most disastrous death: showing thereby how different the Divine Judgements are from those of men. Who would not have thought David's numbering of his people to have been an act of policy and discretion? yet God judged it an offence, and punished it with an unexampled Pestilence, which in so short a time destroyed threescore and ten thousand persons? When Saul urged by his approaching enemies, and the long delays of Samuel offered sacrifice, he thought he had done an act of the greatest virtue, which is religion: but God called it by the name of a grievous sin, and for doing it reproved him, and cast him off from being King. Who would not have judged it for an act of magnanimity and clemency, when Achab, having conquered Benhadad King of Syria, 
3. Reg. c. 20.  pardoned him his life, and took him up to sit by him in his Royal Chariot? But this which was so much esteemed and praised by men, was so disagreeable unto God, that he sent him word by his Prophet, that he should die for it, and that he and his people should bear the punishment, which was designed unto the Syrians and their King. If then the Judgement of God in this life be so far different from that of man, what shall it be in that most dreadful hour, which God hath reserved for the executing of his Divine justice? Then all shall be laid open, and confusion shall cover the sinner with the multitude of his offences. How shall he blush to see himself in the presence of the King of Heaven in so foul and squalid garments? A man is said to remain confounded, when either the issue of things fall out contrary to what he hoped and looked for, or when he comes off with indignity or disparagement, where he expected honour and reward; how confounded then shall a sinner be, when those works of his, which he thought virtues, shall be found vices, imagining he hath done service shall perceive he hath offended, and hoping for a reward shall meet with punishment? If a man when he is to speak with some great Prince desire to be decently and well clad, how will he be out of countenance to appear before him dirty and half naked? How shall then a sinner be ashamed to see himself before the Lord of all naked of good works, be dirtied and defiled with abominable and horrid crimes? for besides the Multitude of sins, whereof his whole life shall be full, the Heinousness of them shall be also laid open before him, and he shall tremble at the sight of that which he now thinks but a trivial fault. For than shall he see clearly the ugliness of sin, the dissonancy of it unto reason, the deformity it causes in the Soul, the injury it does unto the Lord of the world, his ingratitude to the blood of Christ, the prejudice it brings unto himself, hell into which he falls, and eternal glory which he loses. The least of these were sufficient to cover his heart with sadness and inconsolable grief: but altogether what amazement and confusion shall they cause? especially when he shall perceive, that not only mortal, but even venial sins produce an ugliness in the Soul beyond all the corporal deformities which can be imagined. If the sight of only one Devil be so horrible, that many Servants of God have said, that they would rather suffer all the torments of this life, than behold him for one moment, all his deformity proceeding but from one only mortal sin which he committed, for before the Devils were by nature most excellent and beautiful: in what condition shall a sinner be, who shall not only behold all Devils in all their ugliness, but shall see himself perhaps more ugly than many of them, having as many deformities, as he hath committed mortal and venial sins? Let him therefore avoid them now; for all are to come to light, and he must account for all even until the last farthing.  
Neither is this account to be made in gross only for the greatest and most apparent sins, but even for the least and smallest. What Lord is so strict with his Steward, that he demands an account for trifles, for the tagg of a point, nor suffers him to pass a halfpenny without informing him, how it was spent? In humane Tribunals the Judge takes no notice of small matters but in the Courts of Divine Judicature nothing passes: the least things are as diligently looked into as the greater. A confirmation of this is a story written by divers Authors; 
Joh. Major. Judic. exem. 8. ex collec.  That there were two Religious persons of holy and laudable conversation, who did mutually love one another with great affection; one of them chanced to die, and after death appeared unto the other (being then in prayer) in poor and torn garments, and with a most sorrowful and dejected countenance; he who was alive demanded of him, what was the cause of his appearing in that sad manner; to whom he answered, repeating it three times, No man will believe; No man will believe; No man will believe. Being urged to declare further what he would say, he proceeded thus, No man can imagine how strict God is in taking his accounts, and with what rigour he chastises sinners. In saying this he vanished. By that which hath happened to many Servants of God, even before their departure out of this life, may be seen the rigour, with which this account shall be taken after death. 
Climac. gr. 7.  St. John Climacus writes of a certain Monk, who being very desirous to live in solitude and quiet, after he had exercised himself many years in the labours of a Monastical life, and obtained the grace of tears and fasting, with many other privileges of virtue, he built a Cell at the foot of that Mountain, where Elias in time past saw that sacred and divine Vision. This reverend Father being of so great austerity desired yet to live a more strict and penitent life, and therefore passed from thence into a place called Sides, which belonged to the Anchorite Monks, who live in great perfection and retirement; and having lived a long time with much rigour in that place, which was far remote from all humane consolation, and distant 70 miles from any dwelling or habitation of men, at last he came to have a desire to return to his first Cell in that sacred Mountain, where remained in his absence for the keeping of it two most religious Disciples of his of the land of Palestine. Some short time after his return he fell into an infirmity and died. The day before his death suddenly he became much astonished and amazed, and keeping still his eyes open, he looked ghastly about him, sometime on the one side of the Bed, and then on the other, as if he saw some, who demanded an account from him of something which was passed; unto whom he answered in the hearing of all who were present, saying sometime, So it is truly, but for this I have fasted so many years. Otherwhiles he said, Certainly it is not so; thou liest, I never did it. At other times, It is true; I did so, but wept for it, and so many times ministered for it unto the necessity of my neighbour, Other times, Thou accusest me truly, I have nothing to say; but God is merciful. And certainly that invisible and strict inquisition was fearful and horrible unto those who were present. Ay miserable me, saith the Saint, What will become of me sinner, since so great a follower of a solitary and retired life knew not what to answer? He who had lived forty years a Monk, and obtained the grace of tears, and, as some affirmed unto me, had in the Desert fed a hungry Leopard, which meekly repaired unto him for food, yet for all this sanctity at his departure out of this life so strict an account was demanded of him, as he left us uncertain what was his judgement, and what the sentence and determination of his cause. We read in the Chronicles of the Minorites, 
Chronic. S. Franc. 2. p. lib. 4. c. 35.  that a Novice of the Order of St. Francis, being now almost out of himself struggling with death, cried out with a terrible voice, saying: Woe is me: O that I never had been born. A little after he said: I am hearty sorry. And not long after he replied: Put something of the merits of the Passion of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. Then he said, Now 'tis well. The Religious much admired, that a young man so innocent should speak things so dreadful, and with such a strange noise. When the young man was returned to his senses, they demanded of him to declare unto them the meaning of those words, and great cries. He answered them: I saw that in the Judgement of Almighty God so strict an account was taken even of idle words, and other things that seemed very little, and they weighed them so exactly, that the merits in respect of the demerits were almost nothing at all; And for this reason I gave that first terrible, and sad outcry. Afterwards I saw, that the demerits were weighed with great attention, and that little regard was made of the merits; For this reason. I spoke the second words. And seeing that the merits were so few and inconsiderable for to be justified, I spoke the third: And in regard that with the merits of the Passion of Christ our Saviour the balance, wherein my good works were, weighed more than the other, immediately a favourable sentence was given in my behalf; For this reason I said now 'tis well. And having said this he gave up his ghost.   

§ 3.  
The third cause of the terribleness of the end of Temporal Life, which is the charge, which shall be given of divine benefits received.  
THere is also in the end of life another cause of much terror unto Sinners, which is the lively knowledge, which they shall have of the divine benefits received, and the Charge which shall be laid against them for their great ingratitude and abuse of them. This is also signified by what the Prophet Daniel spoke of the Throne and Tribunal of God. For he not only said it was of flames of fire, by which was given us to understand the rigour of divine justice against Sinners signified by the violence, heat, and activity of fire, and the discovery and manifestation of sins, signified by the light and brightness of the flames: but he also adds, that from the face of the Judge there proceeded a heady and rapid river, which was also of fire, signifying by the swiftness of the course, and the issuing of it from God the multitude of his graces and benefits, which flowing from the divine goodness are communicated and poured down upon his Creatures. His saying that this so great river shall in that day be of fire, is to make us understand the rigour of that Charge against us for our abuse of those infinite benefits bestowed, together with the light and clearness, wherewith we shall know them, and the horror and confusion which shall then seize upon us for our great ingratitude, and the small account we have made of them: in so much as Sinners in that instant are not only to stand in fear of their own bad works, but of the grace and benefits of God Almighty conferred upon them. Another mourning Weed and confusion shall cover them, when they shall see what God hath done to oblige and assist them toward their salvation, and what they to the contrary have done to draw upon them their own damnation. They shall tremble to see what God did for their good, and that he did so much as he could do no more: all which hath been misemployed and abused by themselves. This is so clear and evident on the part of God Almighty, that he calls men themselves as witnesses and Judges of the truth; and therefore speaking under the Metaphor of a Vineyard by his Prophet Isay, 
Isai. 5.  he saith in this manner; Inhabitants of Jerusalem and men of Judah, judge betwixt me and my Vineyard; what ought I to have done more unto my Vineyard, and have not done it? And after the incarnation of the Son of God the Lord turns again to upbraid men with the same resentment, and signifies more fully the multitude of his benefits under the same Metaphor of a Vineyard, 
Mat. 21.  which a man planted, and so much cherished and esteemed it, that he sent thither his only Son, who was slain in the demand of it. Let therefore men enter into judgement against themselves, and let them be judges, whether God could have done more for them, and has not done it: they being still so ungrateful towards their Creator, as if he had been their enemy, and done them some notorious injury.  
Coming therefore to consider every one of these benefits by its self, The first which occurs is that of the Creation, which was signified by our Saviour Jesus Christ, when he said, that He planted a Vineyard; and what could God do more for thee, since in this one benefit of thy Creation he gave thee all what thou art both in soul and body? If wanting an arm thou wouldst esteem thyself much obliged and be very thankful unto him, who should bestow one upon thee, which were sound, strong and useful, why art thou not so to God, who hath given thee arms, heart, soul, body and all? Consider what thou wert before he gave thee a being: Nothing; and now thou enjoyest not only a being, but the best being of the Elemental world. Philosophers say, that betwixt being and not being there is an infinite distance. See then what thou owest unto thy Creator, and thou shalt find thy debt to be no less than infinite, since he hath not only given thee a being, but a noble being, and that not by necessity, but out of an infinite love and by election, making choice of thee amongst an infinity of men possible, whom he might have created. If lots were to be cast amongst a hundred persons for some honourable charge, how fortunate would he be esteemed, who should draw the lot from so many Competitors? behold then thy own happiness, who from an absolute nothing hast light upon a being amongst an infinity of creatures possible. And whence proceeds this singular favour, but from God, who out of those numberless millions hath picked out thee, leaving many others, who, if he had created them, would have served him better than thyself? See then what God could have done for thee and has not, having chosen thee without any desert of thine from amongst so many, and preferred thee before those, whom he foresaw would have been more thankful. Besides this he not only created thee by election, and gave thee a noble being, but supernatural happiness, being no way due unto thy nature, he created thee for it, and gave thee for thy end the most high and eminent, that could be imagined, to wit, the eternal possession of thy Creator. It was enough for God to create thee for a natural happiness conformable to what thou wert, but he, not to leave any thing undone which he could do, created thee for a supernatural blessedness, in so much as there is no creature, which hath a higher end than thyself. See then if God could do more for thee, and has not; and see what thou oughtest to do for him; see whereunto thou art obliged. For this only benefit thou oughtest not to move hand nor foot, but for the service of so good and gracious a God. A labourer who plants a tree hath right unto the fruit: and God, who created thee, hath right unto thy works, which are the fruits of man. For this reason at the Garment of the Highpriest, which represented the benefit of our Creation, were hung many Pomegranates, which are the noblest fruit of trees, and bears a Crown, to signify that the good fruits of holy works, which we ought to produce, are to be crowned with a perfect and pure intention. See then if thou canst do more for God; for God could do no more for thee, than to create thee for so high and eminent an end, as is the possession of himself, being no ways due unto thy feeble and frail nature.  
It being then so great a benefit to have created thee, it is yet a greater to have preserved and suffered thee until this instant without casting thee into a thousand hells for thy sins and offences. This grace of conservation our Saviour noted, when he said that he compassed and enclosed his Vineyard, which was for the preservation of it. See then what thy Creator in this matter of conservation could have done more than he hath done for thee, since being his enemy he hath preserved thee as his friend. From how many for one only fault committed hath he withdrawn his preservation, and suffered them to die in that sin, for which they are now in hell: & some of them, if they had been pardoned, would have proved more grateful than thou? Behold how many Angels for their first offence he threw headlong down from heaven, and expected them no longer; and yet still expects thee. See if he could do more for thee, and see what thou art to do for him. Consider that thou owest him for preserving thee as much as for creating thee, preservation being a continued creation, and more for preserving and suffering thee although his enemy. In thy creation, although thou didst not deserve a being, yet thou demerited it not; but in thy preservation thou hast deserved the contrary, which is to be forsaken and abandoned.  
But above all what is said is the benefit which thou receivest by the Incarnation of the Son of God: which Christ signified when he said, that the Lord of the Vineyard sent his Son. See if God could have done more for his own salvation than he did for thine, sending into the world his only begotten Son to be incarnated for thee. A greater work than this could not be done by the omnipotent arm of God. Consider that he did not this for the Angels, and yet did it for thee; see if then thou canst comply with the love thou owest him with being less than a Seraphin in thy affection. Consider likewise that it being in his power to redeem thee by making himself an Angel, and only interceding for thee, yet he would not deprive thy nature of this honour, but made himself a Man; see if he could do more for thy good. By making himself an Angel he might have honoured the Angelical nature, and have likewise benefited thee; but he would not: but making himself a Man, conferred both the honour and profit upon thee. And if it be true which some Doctors say, that God having proposed unto the Angels, that they were to adore a Man, who was also to be God, and to be exalted above all their Hierarchies, and that because they would not subject themselves unto an inferior nature, they therefore fell and became disobedient: see what thou owest unto God for this so singular a favour, who would make himself a Man, that thou shouldest not be lost, although with the loss of so many Angels better than thee. Behold from whence he drew thee by this benefit, which was from sin and hell: and at such a time, when thy miserable condition was desperate of all other remedy; behold unto what he exalted thee: to his grace and ●he inheritance of the Kingdom of Heaven. Behold in what manner, and with what singular love and affection he did it, even to his own loss and prejudice, and, as the Apostle saith, by annihilating as it were himself, that he might exalt thee, taking upon him thy nature when it was not needful, only that he might confer an honour upon thee, which he would not upon the Angels. See what God could do more for thee: and see that thou mayest do much more for him and dost not.  
Of the benefit of our redemption by the death and passion of Christ the Lord himself was not forgetful, but signified it unto us, even before he died, saying That the Son, whom the Lord of the Vineyard sent, was slain in the pretence. What could the Son of God do more for thee than die and shed his blood for thy benefit, especially when it was not needful for thy redemption? In the rigour of justice it was necessary that God should be incarnate, or make himself an Angel to redeem thee; but to suffer and die, not at all. But such was his infinite love, as he would needs suffer, and not with an ordinary death, but would die so ignominiously, as it seems he could not suffer more. Set before thy eyes Christ crucified upon Mount Calvarie; see if a Man more infamous be possible or imaginable, executed publicly between two Thiefs as a Traitor, and an Heretic for broaching false Doctrine, and making himself King, as a Traitor unto Caesar; Two crimes so infamous, as they not only defame the person who commits them, but stain and infect his whole Stock and Lineage. Behold in what poverty he died, if greater can be thought on, to the end thou mayest see, if it were possible he should do more for thee than what he did. Whilst he lived he had not whereon to repose his head, but yet had , wherewith to cover decently his nakedness; but when he died, even his garments failed him: neither found he one drop of water to refresh his sacred lips; even the earth refused him, wanting whereon to rest his reverend feet. Behold with what grief and pains he expired, since from head to foot he was but one continued wound; his feet and hands were pierced with nails, and his head with thorns. All was a high expression of an excessive love, and to do for thee what he could: see then what thou oughtest to do and suffer for him, who died and suffered for thee what he could, and could do what he would.  
After all these benefits consider his giving himself unto thee for food and sustenance in the most holy Sacrament: the which was noted by Christ, when he said, That the Lord of the Vineyard built a Press for the Wine, in which he gave his most precious blood. It seems that the persons of the most holy Trinity were in competition, and strove amongst themselves, who should most oblige Man with their benefits and favours. Let us express it in this manner: for to conceive it, as it is in itself, the understanding of Angels were not sufficient. Here may be applied that which antiquity admired in two great and famous Painters. Apelles went to Rhodes to see Protogenes, and not finding him at home took a Pencil, and drew a most subtle line, charging the Servants that they should tell their Master, that he who drew that line was there to seek him. When Protogenes returned, they told him what had happened: who took the Pencil, and drew a stroke of another colour through the middle of that which Apelles had drawn, and going about his business commanded his Servants, that, if he came again, they should tell him, that he whom he sought for had drawn that line through the middle of his. It seemed there could not be imagined a higher favour and Courtship, than that of the Eternal Father to have given his only Son, and have delivered him up to death for man; but through the middle of this favour the Son drew another of most excessive fineness and subtlety, which is the institution of the most blessed Sacrament, the which some call an Extension of the Incarnation, and is a Representation of the Passion, and a Character and Memorial of the Wonders of God. Here truly did the Son of God draw the stroke of his infinite love, and consummated all the Divine benefits: not only giving himself for our benefit and behoof, but entering into our very breasts to solicit our love and affection. Anacreon writes, That standing at defiance with the God of love, and having resisted all his arrows, the God at last, when he had no more to shoot, shot himself, and penetrating his heart and entrails compelled him to yield. What other are the benefits of our Lord God, than so many arrows of love which Man resists? and not rendering himself neither at the benefit of Creation, Conservation, Incarnation, or Passion, let him at last render himself at this, when God shoots himself into him, and enters into his very breast and bowels to solicit his love. If he resist this also, what judgements expect him? Whereupon St. Paul says, that he who presumes to communicate unworthily, eats and drinks the judgement of God, that is, swallows down the whole weight of Divine justice.  
Consider then how dreadful it shall be unto a Sinner, when he shall receive a charge not only of his own being, and his own life, but also of the being and life or God, of the Incarnation, Passion, Life and Death of Christ our Redeemer, who hath so often given himself unto him in the Sacrament of his Body and Blood. The Murderer who stands charged with the life of a man, although it be of some wicked person, yet fears to be apprehended and brought to judgement; how is it then that he, who is charged with the life of God, trembles not? O how fearful a thing is it, when a vile creature shall enter into judgement with his Creator, and shall be demanded an account of the blood of Christ, whose value is infinite? What account can he give of such a benefit, and of all the rest, which he hath received, even from the greatest unto the least? when Christ shall say unto him those words of St. Chrisostome, 
Chrysost. hom. 24. in Math.  I, when thou hadst no being, gave thee one, inspired thee with a Soul, and placed thee above all things that are upon the Earth. I for thee created Heaven, Air, Sea, Earth, and all things, and yet am dishonoured by thee, and held more vile and base than the Devil himself: and yet for all this have not ceased to do thee good, and bestowed upon thee innumerable benefits. For thy sake, being God, I was content to make myself a Servant, was buffeted, spit upon, and condemned to a punishment of Slaves: and to redeem thee from death suffered the death of the Cross. In Heaven I interceded for thee, and from thence sent thee the Holy Ghost; I invited thee unto the Kingdom of Heaven, offered myself to be thy Head, thy Spouse, thy Garment, thy House, thy Root, thy Food, thy Drink, thy Shepherd, thy Brother, I chose thee for the Heir of Heaven, and drew thee out of darkness unto light. To such excesses of love what have we to answer, but to stand astonished and confounded, that we have been so ungrateful, and given occasion to the Devil of one of the greatest scorns and injuries, which could be put upon our Redeemer, when he shall say unto him: Thou createdst man; for him waste born in poverty, livedst in labours, and diedst in pain and torments. I have done nothing for him, but would have drunk his blood, and sought to damn him into a thousand hells; and yet for all this it is I whom he strives to please, and not thee. Thou dost prepare for him a Crown of eternal glory, I desire to torment him in hell: and yet he had rather serve me without interest, than thee for thy promise of so great a reward. I should have been ashamed to have created and redeemed a wretch so ungrateful unto him, from whom he hath received so great benefits; but since he loves me better than thee, let him be mine, unto whom he hath so often given up himself.  
We are not only to give an account of these general benefits, but of those which are more particular: of the good examples which we have seen, of the instructions which we have heard, of the inspirations which have been sent us, and the Sacraments which we have received; we have much to do to correspond with all these. Let us therefore tremble at that strict judgement; let us tremble at ourselves, who are so careless of that, for which all the care in the world is not sufficient; And if it were not for the blood of Christ what would become of us? but the time of benefitting ourselves by that will be then past; now is the time: and if we shall now despise and outrage it, in what case shall we be? Let us not misspend the time of this life, since so severe an account will be demanded of all the benefits which we have received, one of which is the Time of this temporal life, and the blessings of it. Let us take heed what use we make of it; let us not lose it, since we are to answer for every part of it. 
Sopronin Prato spirituali ca 59 de Beato Thalilaeo.  This made holy Thalileus tremble and weep bitterly, who being asked the cause of his tears answered: This time is bestowed upon us wherein to do penance, and a most strict account will be demanded of us, if we despise it. It is not ours, for which we are to answer: we are not the Lords of time; let us not therefore dispose of it for our own pleasure, but for the service of God, whose it is. This consideration were sufficient to withdraw our affection from the goods of this life, and to settle it upon those which are eternal, since we are not Masters of time and the things which are in it, but are as Stewards to account for it and them. Being therefore to give a reason how we have employed them for the service of God Almighty, let us not without reason abuse them for our own vain gust and pleasure.    

CAP. V.  
How God even in this life passes a most rigorous Judgement.  
ALl that we have hitherto spoken concerning the rigour of the Divine Tribunal, before which the Soul is at the end of life to appear, and to give an account unto his Redeemer, is far short of what really is to be. To the end therefore that we may conceive it something better, I shall here propose the severity wherewith God executes his Judgements even in this life, wherein he makes use of mercy, that from thence we may collect the rigour of the other, where he is only to use his Justice. 
Ezeck. 7.  By the Prophet Ezekiel he speaks unto his people thus. I will pour out all my rage upon thee, and will accomplish my fury in thee; I will judge thee according to thy ways, and will lay forth all thy wickedness against thee; my eyes shall not pardon thee, neither will I have mercy. I will charge thee with all thy misdeeds, and thy abominations shall be in the middle of thee: and thou shalt know that I am the Lord which smites. And presently he adds, My wrath shall be upon all the people, the sword without, and pestilence and famine within; he who is in the field shall die by the sword, and they who are in the City shall be devoured by pestilence and famine: and they who fly, shall save themselves, and shall all remain in the Mountains, as the Doves of the Valleys, trembling in their iniquity: their hands shall be disjointed, and their knees shall resolve into water, for the great fear and amazement which God in his wrath shall send upon them. But it is not much that the Lord should deal thus with sinners, who have forsaken their God, since even against those, who are desirous to do all for his honour, he proceeds with much rigour. 
Zach. 3.  Let us see how the Prophet Zacharit sets forth unto us the Highpriest who then lived, the Son of Josedeck, as a lively representation of the Divine Judgement, whom he makes to appear before an Angel who there exercised the Office of a Judge; clothed in foul and polluted Garments, in so much as the Lord calls him a Brand taken out of the fire, and Satan standing by his side to accuse him. If then this great Priest, zealous of the glory of God, stood so dejected and confused in the presence of an Angel, as he appeared as a black and  coal of hell in unclean and sooty Garments, how shall a grievous Sinner and despiser of the Divine service appear before God himself? But this is more fully signified in the Apocalypse, where our Saviour himself pronounced judgement against the seven Bishops of Asia, who were then all alive, and most of them esteemed great Servants of God, and so holy, as was St. Timothy the beloved Disciple of Paul, St. Polycarp, St. Quadratus, St. Carpus, St. Sagaris, all in great opinion for sanctity and holiness of life. Let us first behold in what manner our Saviour Christ appeared when he came to judge them, and after let us consider the rigorous charge which he laid against them. For the first, to signify that nothing could be hid or concealed from him, he stood in the midst of seven Candlesticks, or of seven Lamps like the Golden Candlestick in the Temple, in each of which was a lighted Candle; in his hand he held seven Stars, whose beams and splendour enlightened all about him: and above all his face was as the Sun at midday in his greatest force, which leaves not the least atom undiscovered. In such a brightness of Candles, Stars, and Sun there was no shadow; to give us to understand that nothing how little soever can be hidden from the allseeing eyes of our most just Judge, unto whom all things will appear clearly and distinctly as they are in themselves; but not content with so many arguments of the evidence; which he shall have of all offences, he adds That the eyes of the Judge were as flaming fire, more penetrating than the eyes of Lynceus, to see and search into all things, and to note also the rigour and severity wherewith he looks upon offences, when he comes to judge them. This certainly were sufficient of itself to set forth the rigour of his justice, but to make it appear yet more terrible he declares it by another figure of a two-edged Sword, which he held in his mouth, to denote that the rigour of his works shall be greater than those of his words, although his words themselves were as cutting swords. In conclusion all was so full of terror and threatening, as, although it nothing concerned St. John as being none of those who were to be judged, yet it caused so great a fear and amazement in him, that he fell as dead upon the ground. If then St. John only beholding the wrathful countenance of our Lord, not against himself, but others, with whom also he intended to use mercy, it made his feet to fail, and his pulses to remain without motion, how shall it far with that sinner who shall behold him all incensed against him, and that at such a time when he is only to use his justice? I believe that if the Souls of Sinners were capable of death, the terror of that fight would bereave them of a thousand lives.  
Let us now see what was found by those eyes of fire, with which Christ so narrowly examined the works of those seven Bishops, who were such as he himself vouchsafes to call them Angels. Truly he found much to reprehend in them, that it might be verified which was spoken in Job, that he found iniquity in his Angels. Who would have thought, that St. Timothy, of whom the Apostle was so confident, and of whom he made so great esteem, should deserve that God should take away his Chair, and deprive him of his Church of Ephesus? yet Christ found him worthy of so great a chastisement, and threatens to do it, if he did not amend: and complains that he was fallen from his former zeal, exhorting him to do penance, which certainly he performed, as perceiving it very necessary for him. Greater faults he found in the Bishop of Pergamus, as also in him of Thiatira, who was St. Carpus: and in like manner exhorts them both to do penance. And that it may appear how different are the judgements of God from those of men, although the Bishop of Sardis was held by all for a most holy man, that he had gained a great opinion of virtue, and that he did many good works, yet Jesus Christ found he was so far from being a Saint, that he remained in mortal sin. O holy good God, who would not tremble, that he who passed amongst men for an Angel, should by thee be reputed as a Devil? but no less dreadful is that which passed with the Bishop of Laodicia, whose Conscience did not accuse him of any thing, who thought he had complied with his obligations, that he exercised great virtues, had no remorse of any grievous fault or matter of importance, and yet for all this he was so contrary in the Divine sight, that the Lord says he was a miser and miserable, poor, blind and naked of all virtue. Well said the Wiseman, That man knoweth not whether he be worthy of love or hate. And David had reason to demand of God that he would cleanse him from the sins he knew not. O most holy Lord and most righteous Judge, how happens it that men fear thee not, since for what they themselves know they ought to tremble; and although they hold themselves for just, and are not conscious of any enormous fault, yet that which thou knowest only is sufficient to condemn them? Let us quake that God is to demand an account of those sins, which we ourselves are ignorant of, as he did of this Bishop of Laodicia, and also of sins committed by others, as he did of him of Thiatira. The divine eyes of Christ pierce not only into our secret sins, and the sins of others, but also discover those of Omission; and therefore he reprehended the omission of the Bishop of Pergamus, although he was very faithful unto God in all good works, and sought his glory, and the exaltation of his holy name; and likewise searches into all our evil works as well known as hid, as well our own as others, and also into our good works, when they are not done with fervour and perfection. Let us tremble that in St. Timothy he found his works not fervent: but much more that in the holy Bishop of Philadelphia, who was irreprehensible, and had not slackened nor fallen off from his first zeal, yet he found wherein to reprehend him, not for commission of what was bad, not for omission of what was good, not for remission of his former fervour, but only because he had little virtue, whereas in truth this most holy Bishop had great merits, for which he was much favoured and beloved of God. But as our obligations are infinite, so there is no virtue, no sancticty, which in his fight appears not little. So precise, so exact is the Divine judgement, that of seven Bishops, which were reputed Angels, he found in six wherewith to judge and reprehend them; in one negligence, in another inconstancy and dismaidness, in another slackness and remissness of zeal, in another weariness and want of perseverance, in another fear, in another tepidness and indiscretion, and in two at least that they were in mortal sin. And if in such Angels his divine eyes found wherewith to be offended, what will they find in us sinners?  
The knowledge, that Christ had judged them, was of great profit unto those Bishops, causing them ever after to comply with their duties with great fervour; and for those, who are known who they were, it is certain that they died Saints, and for such are celebrated by the holy Church. It may also be profitable unto us, to know that we are likewise to be judged with equal rigour, that we may not offend him, unto whom we own so much; that we may not be tepid in his service, but perform our works fully, perfectly and completely. Let the tepid fear those words which our Saviour said unto one of those Bishops, 
Apoc. 3.  I would thou wert either hot or cold; but because thou art lukewarm, I shall begin to vomit thee out of my mouth. Of this Menace an Interpreter notes, that it is more dreadful, 
Alcazar.  than if it had been of condemnation, as intimating something more in particular, than is to be found in the common sort of Reprobates, which is signified by that Metaphor of Vomit, which denotes an irreconcilable detestation on God's part, a casting off from his paternal providence, a denying of his efficacious helps, and a great hardness of heart in the offender. Let us tremble at this threat; be Careful also, that so we may not hear from the mouth of Christ, that which he said unto the Bishop of Sardis, I find not thy works full before my God. Let us therefore see how our Charity stands, whether it be full or not. For it is not full, if we love this man, and not that; if we wish well unto our benefactor, and abhor him who does us injury; if we work only and not also suffer; let us see if we bear the burdens of our neighbour as if they were our own; if we prefer the conveniency of others before our own; if we embrace with a desire of pleasing God Almighty things hard and painful; and if we love him not with words but deeds. Let us see if our Humility be full, if we do not only hate honours, but desire to be despised; if we do not only not prefer ourselves before any, but abase ourselves below all. Let us see if our Patience be full; if we had not rather suffer this than that; if we do not only suffer, but not complain. Let us see whether our Obedience be full; if we obey in things easy, and not in difficult and troublesome; if our equal, and not inferior; if we look upon God, and not upon Man; if we do it with repugnancy, and not with delight. See if the rest of thy virtues be full: thou art to give an account of all; endeavour to give a good one; see if thou be not found in that day with vain and empty works; for thou shalt not only be demanded, if thou hast done them good ones, but if thou hast done them well. If even in this life God will chastise our carelessness, what will he do in the other?  
Let us draw strength out of weakness, that we may with all our power and all our forces serve him who hath done so much for us. Let us see what we have received, that we may know what we are to return; let us look upon the greatness of those benefits which have been conferred upon us, that we may know how to measure our gratitude accordingly: and as the benefits of God have been full and plentifully heaped upon us, let not our thanks and services be short and niggardly. Our Lord forgot not to put the seven Prelates in mind of their obligation for his benefits; and therefore said unto the Bishop of Sardis, 
Apoc. 3.  Keep in thy mind in what manner thou hast received; because in divine benefits we are not only to be thankful for the substance, but for the manner and circumstances of them, that our gratitude may not only consist in the substance of good works, but in the manner and circumstance of doing them, performing them fully, perfectly, and completely; and seeing God hath bestowed his benefits out of his infinite love upon us, let us also serve him with a perfect and unfeigned affection: and since he hath employed his omnipotency for our good and profit, let us employ our forces and faculties for his glory and service.   

CAP. VI  
Of the End of all Time.  
BEsides the end of the particular time of this life, the universal end of all time is much to be considered; that, since humane ambition passes the limits of this life, and desires honour and a famous memory after it, Man may know that after this death, there is another death to follow, in which his memory shall also die and vanish away as smoke. After that we have finished the time of this life, the end of all time is to succeed, which is to give a period unto all which we leave behind us. Let man therefore know that those things, which he leaves behind for his memory after death, are as vain as those which he enjoyed in life. Let him raise proud Mausoleums, Let him erect Statues of Marble, Let him build populous Cities, Let him leave a numerous Kindred, Let him write learned Books, Let him stamp his Name in brass, and fix his Memory with a thousand nails, All must have an end; his Cities shall sink, his Statues fall, his Family and Lineage perish, his Books be burned, his Memory be defaced, and all shall end, because all time must end. It much imports us to persuade ourselves of this truth, that we may not be deceived in the things of this world, That not only our pleasures and delights are to end in death, but our memories at the farthest are to end with Time; And since all are to conclude, all are to be despised as vain and perishing. Cicero, although immoderately desirous of fame and honour, 
Cieer. in Ep. ad Luc.  as appears by a large Epistle of his written unto a friend, wherein he earnestly entreats him to write the conspiracy of Catiline, which was discovered by himself, in a Volume apart, and that he would allow something in it unto their ancient friendships, and Publish it in his life time, that he might enjoy the glory of it whilst he lived: yet when he came to consider that the world was to end in Time, he perceived that no glory could be immortal, and therefore says, By reason of deluges and burn of the earth, 
In Somn. Scip.  which mu●● of necessity happen within a certain time, we cannot attain glory not so much as durable for any long time, much less eternal. In this world no memory can be immortal, since Time and the World itself are mortal; and the time will come, when time shall be no more. But this truth is like the memory of death, which by how much it is more important, by so much men think lest of it, and practically do not believe it. But God, that his divine providence and care might not be wanting, hath also in this taken order, that a matter of so great concernment should be published with all solemnity, first by his Son, after by his Apostles, and then by Angels. 
Apoc. 10.  And therefore St. John writes in his Apocalyps, that he saw an Angel of great might and power, who descended from heaven, having a Cloud for his Garment, and his head covered with a Rainbow, his face shining as the Sun, and his feet as pillars of fire, with the right foot treading upon the Sea, and with the left upon the Earth, sending forth a great and terrible voice as the roaring of a Lion, which was answered by seven thunders with other most dreadful noises; and presently this prodigious Angel lifts up his hand towards Heaven. But wherefore all this Ceremony? wherefore this strange equipage? wherefore this horrid voice and thunder? all was to proclaim the death of Time, and to persuade us more of the infallibility of it, he continued it with a solemn Oath conceived in a Set form of most authentic words, listing up his hand towards Heaven, and swearing by him that lives for ever and ever, who created Heaven and Earth, and all which is in it, There shall be more more time. With what could this truth be more confirmed, than by the Oath of so great and powerful and an Angel?  
The greatness and solemnity of the Oath gives us to understand the weight and gravity of the thing affirmed both in respect of itself, and the importance of us to know it. If the death of a Monarch or Prince of some corner of the world, prognosticated by an Eclipse or Comet, cause a fear and amazement in the beholders, what shall the death of the whole World, and with it all things temporal, and of Time itself foretold by an Angel with so prodigious an apparition, and so dreadful a noise produce in them, who seriously consider it? For us also this thought is most convenient, whereby to cause in us a contempt of all things temporal. Let us therefore be practically persuaded, that not only this life shall end, but that there shall be also an end of Time. Time shall bereave Man of this life, and Time shall bereave the World of his, whose end shall be no less horrible than that of Man; but how much the whole World and the whole Race of mankind exceeds one particular person, by so much shall the universal end surpass in terror the particular end of this life. For this cause the Prophecies, which foretell the end of the World, are so dreadful, that if they were not dictated by the holy Spirit of God, they would be thought incredible. Christ therefore our Saviour having uttered some of them unto his Disciples, because they seemed to exceed all that could be imagined, in the conclusion confirmed them with that manner of Oath or Asseveration, which he commonly used in matters of greatest importance: 
Math. 13. Luc. 21.  Amen (which is, By my verity, or verily) I say unto you, that the world shall not end before all these things are fulfilled. Heaven and earth shall fail, but my words shall not fail. Let us believe then that Time shall end, and that the World shall die, and that, if we may so say, a most horrible and disastrous death; let us believe it, since the Angels and the Lord of Angels have sworn it. If it be so then, that those memorial of men, which seemed immortal, must at last end, since the whole Race of man is to end, let us only strive to be preserved in the eternal memory of him, who hath no end; and let us no less despise to remain in the fading memory of men who are to die, than to enjoy the pleasures of our senses which are to perish. As the hoarding up of riches upon earth is but a deceit of Avarice, so the desire of eternising our memory is an error of Ambition. The covetous man must then leave his wealth when he leaves his life, if the Thief in the mean time do not take it from him: and fame and renown must end with the World, if envy or oblivion deface it not before. All, that is to end, is vain; this World therefore and all which is esteemed in it is vain, all is vanity of vanities, Let us only aim and aspire unto the eternal, because the just only, as the Prophet says, shall remain in the eternal memory of God. The memory of man is (as men themselves) frail and perishing. What man ambitious of a perpetual memory would not rather choose to be esteemed by ten men, who were to live a hundred years, than, by a thousand, who were to die immediately after him? Let us therefore desire to be in the memory of God, whose life is eternity. Our memory amongst men can last no longer than men themselves, which shall all die like us; and there can be no memory immortal amongst those who are mortal. It is therefore very expedient, that the end of the World should be accompanied by the universal Judgement of all men, wherein shall be revealed their most secret and hidden thoughts and anions: That the murderer who hath slain his neighbour, lest he should discover his wickedness, may not hope that therefore it shall remain concealed: and That no, man should be bold to sin for want of witnesses, since the whole World shall then know that, which, if any but himself had known here, would have burst his heart with shame and sorrow.   

CAP. VII.  
How the Elements and the Heavens are to change at the end of Time.  
LEt us now look upon the strange manner of the end of the World, which being so terrible, gives us to understand the vanity and deceit of all things in it, and the great abuse of them by man; for questionless were it not for the great malice and wickedness, which reigns in the World, the period of it would not be so horrible and disastrous. 
Lib. recognit.  S. Clement the Roman writes that he learned of St. Peter the Apostle, that God had appointed a day from all eternity, wherein the Army of Vengeance should with all its forces, and, as we may say, in ranged battle fight with the Army of Sin; which day is usually called in the holy Scripture The day of the Lord: in which battle the Army of Vengeance shall prevail, and shall at once extirpate and make an end both of Sin and the World, wherein it hath so long reigned. And certainly if the terror of that day shall equal the multitude and heinousness of sins, we need not wonder at what the sacred Scripture and holy Fathers have foretold of it. But as it is usual in war res to skirmish and make inroads before the day of battle, so before that dreadful day, wherein all punishments are to encounter with all offences, the Lord shall from divers parts send forth several calamities, which shall be forerunners of that great day of battle, and shall like light Horsemen scour the Campania: which St. John in the Apocalypse signified by those Horsemen, which he saw sally forth upon diverse-coloured horses, one red, another black, and the third pale: so the Lord shall before that day send Plagues, Famine, Wars, Earthquakes, Droughts, Inundations, Deluges; and if those miseries do now so much afflict us, what shall they then do, when God shall add unto them his utmost force and power, when all Creatures shall arm against Sinners, and the Zeal of divine justice shall be their Captain-general? which the Wiseman declares in these words; 
Sap. 5.  His zeal shall take up arms, and shall arm the creatures to revenge him of his enemies; he shall put on Justice as a breastplate, and righteous Judgement as a helmet, and he shall take Equity as a buckler, and shall sharpen his Wrath as a lance, and the circuit of the earth shall fight for him. Thunderbolts shall be sent from the clouds as from a well-shooting how, and shall nit fail to hit the mark, and Hail shall be sent full of stormy wrath. The Waters of the sea shall threaten them, the Rivers shall combat furiously, a most strong Wind shall rise against them, and shall divide them as a whirlwind. Very dreadful are those words, although they contain but the War, which three of the Elements are to make against Sinners; but not only Fire, Air and Water, but Earth also and Heaven (as it appears in other places of Scripture) shall fall upon them and confound them; for all creatures shall express their fury in that day, and shall rise against man: and if the clouds shall discharge thunderbolts and stones upon their heads, the Heavens shall shoot no less balls than Stars, which, as Christ says, shall fall from thence. If Hail no bigger than little stones falling but from the clouds destroy the fields, and sometimes kills the lesser sort of cattle, what shall pieces of Stars do falling from the Firmament or some upper Region?  
It is no amplification which the Gospel uses, when it says, That men shall whither with fear of what shall fall upon the whole frame of nature: for as in Man, which is called the Lesser world, when he is to die, the humours, which are as the Elements, are troubled and out of order, his eyes, which are as the Sun and Moon, are darkened, his other senses, which are as the lesser stars, fall away, his reason, which is as the celestial virtues, is off the hinges: so in the death of the greater World, before it dissolve and expire, the Sun shall be turned into darkness, the Moon into blood, the Stars shall fall, and the whole World shall tremble with a horrid noise. If the Sun, Moon, and other celestial bodies, which are held incorruptible, shall suffer such changes, what shall be done with those frail and corruptible Elements of Earth, Air, and Water? If this inferior World do, as the Philosophers say, depend upon the Heavens, those celestial bodies being altered and broken in pieces, in what estate must the lower Elements remain, when the Virtues of Heaven shall falter, and the wand'ring Stars shall lose their way, and fail to observe their order? How shall the Air be troubled with violent and sudden Whirlwinds, dark Tempests, horrible Thunders, and furious flashes of Lightning? and how shall the Earth tremble with dreadful Earthquakes, opening herself with a thousand mouths, and casting forth as it were whole Volcanies of fire and sulphur, and not content to overthrow the loftiest Towers, shall swallow up high Mountains, and bury whole Cities in her entrails? How shall the Sea than rage, mounting his proud waves above the clouds, as if they meant to overwhelm the whole Earth, and shall certainly drown a great part of it? The roaring of the Ocean shall astonish those who are far distant from the Sea, and inhabit in the midst of the firm land; wherefore Christ our Saviour said, 
Luc. 21.  that there should be in the Earth afflictions of Nations for the confusion of the noise of the Sea.  
What shall men do in this general perturbation of Nature? they shall remain amazed and pale as death. What comfort shall they have? they shall stand gazing one upon another, and every one shall conceive a new fear by beholding in, his neighbour's face the image of his own death. What fear and horror shall then possess them, when they shall hourly expect the success and dire effects portended by these monstrous prodigies? All Commerce shall then cease, the Market-places shall be unpeopled, and the Tribunals remain solitary and silent; none shall be then ambitious of honours, none shall seek after pastimes and new invented pleasures; nor shall the covetous wretch then busy himself with the care of his treasures; none shall frequent the Palaces of Kings and Princes, but through fear shall forget even to eat and drink; all their care shall be employed how to escape those Deluges, Earthquake and lightnings, seeking for places of security which they shall not meet with. Who will then value his own Descent and Lineage? who the nobleness of his Arms and achievements? who his Wisdom and Talents? who will remember the Beauty he hath once doted upon? who the sumptuous Buildings he hath reared? who his acute and well-composed Writings? who his Discretion and Gravity in his discourse? And if we shall forget what we ourselves most valued and gloried in, how shall we remember that of others? what remembrance shall there then be of the acts of that great Alexander? Of the Learning of Aristotle? and the Endowments of the most renowned men of the world? Their Fame shall remain from thence forward for ever buried, and shall die with the World for a whole Eternity. The Mariners, when in some furious Tempest they are upon the point of sinking, how are they amazed at the rage of the watery Element? how grieved and afflicted with the ruin which threatens them? what prayers and vows do they send up to Heaven? how disinteressed are they of all worldly matters, since they fling their wealth and riches into the Sea, for which they have run such hazard? In what condition shall be then the Inhabitants of the Earth, when not only the Sea with his raging, but Heaven and Earth with a thousand prodigies shall affright them? when the Sun shall put on a Robe of mourning, and amaze them with the horror of his darkness: when the Moon shall look like blood, the Stars fall, and the Earth shake them with its unquiet trembling: when the Whirlwinds shall throw them off their legs, and frequent and thick flashes of Lightning dazzle their sight, and confound their understanding: what shall Sinners than do, for whose sake all these fearful wonders shall happen?  

§ 2.  
The fear and astonishment which shall fall upon mankind, when the whole power and concourse of Nature shall be armed against Sinners, may be perceived by the fear which hath been caused by some particular of those changes, which are foretold to happen in the end of the World altogether, and every one in great excess. Let us therefore by the consideration of the particular judge how dreadful shall be the conjunction of so many and so great calamities. And to begin with the Earth the most dull and heavy of all the Elements, Cardinal Jacobus Papiensis, 
Jacob. Papiens. In Epist.  writing what happened in his own time, reports that in the year 1456, upon the 5th of December, three hours before day, the whole Kingdom of Naples trembled with that violence, that some entire Towns were buried in the earth, and a great part of many others were overthrown, in which perished 60000 persons, part swallowed by the earth, and part oppressed by the ruins of buildings. what security can men look for in this life, when they are not secure of the earth they tread upon? What firmness can there be in the World, when the only firm thing in it is unstable? From whence may not death assault us, if it springs from under our feet? 
Evarg. l. 6. c. 8. Vide Niceph. lib. 18.3 c. 13.  But it is not much that the Earthquake of a whole Kingdom should cause so great a ruin, since it hath done as much in one City. Evagrius writes, that the night in which Mauritius the Emperor was married, three hours within night the City of Antioch quaked in that manner, that most of the Buildings were overthrown, and 60000 persons remained buried in her ruins. If the Earth was so cruel in those particular Earthquakes, what was it in the time of Tiberius, 
Plin. l. 2. c. 84.  when according to Pliny twelve of the most principal Cities of Asia were overthrown and sunk into the earth? 
Sen. nat. q. l. 6.  And yet more cruel was that related by Nicephorus, which happened in the time of the Emperor Theodosius, which lasted for 6 months without intermission, 
Niceph. l. 4. c. 46.  and was so universal, that almost the whole circuit of the Earth trembled, as extending to the Chersonesus, Alexandria, Bithynia, Antioch, Hellespont, the two Phrygia's, the greatest part of the East, and many Nations of the West.  
And that we may also say something of the fury of the Sea, even against those who were far distant from the rage of his waves, and thought themselves secure in their own houses: Most horrible was that Earthquake related by S. Jerome, 
St. Higher in vita St. Hilarion.  and Ammianus Marcellinus, who was an eye-witness of it, which happened not long after the death of the Emperor Julian, wherein not only the Earth trembled, but the Sea outpassed his limits as in another Deluge, and turned again to involve the Earth as in the first Chaos. Ships floated in Alexandria above the loftiest buildings, and in other places above high hills; and after that the Sea was calmed and returned into his channel, many Vessels in that City (as Nicephorus writes) remained upon the top of-houses, 
Niceph. l. 10. c. 35.  and in other parts upon high rocks, as witnesseth St. Jerome. But let us hear it related by Ammianus Marcellinus,, 
Am. Marcel. l. 20.  whose words are these which follow, Procopius the Tyrant being yet alive, the 2●. of July, the year wherein Valentinian was first time Consul with his Brother, the Elements throughout the whole compass of the Earth suddenly fell unto such distempers and disorders, as neither true stories have ever mentioned, nor false feigned. A little before morning the Heavens being first overcast with a dark Tempest, intermixed with frequent thunders, and horrid flashes of lightning, the whole body of the Earth moved, and the Sea being violently driven back retired in such manner as the most hidden bottom of it was discovered; so as many unknown sorts of Fishes were seen stretched out upon the mud. Those vast profoundities beholding then the Sun, whom Nature from the beginning of the world had hid under so immense a mass of waters, many Ships remained upon the Oase or floating in small gullets: and Fishes were taken up with men's hands gasping upon the dry sands; but in short time the waves of the Sea, enraged to see themselves banished from their natural seats, lifted themselves up with great fury against the Islands, and far extended Coasts of the Continent; and what Cities or Buildings they encountered were violently overthrown and evened with the ground; in so much as the face of the World changed by the furious discord of the Elements produced many unheard of Prodigies. For the vast body of the waters suddenly and unexpectedly returning and entering far into the land, many thousands of people were drowned, whose dead bodies, after the swell of the waves were assuaged and retired unto their natural and usual bed, were found, some with their faces downward groveling upon the Earth, some upwards looking upon the Heavens; and some great Ships the waters left upon the tops of houses, as it happened in Alexandria: others far from the Seashore, and as we ourselves are witness, who saw one, as we passed by Methion, then old and wormeaten. All this lamentable story is from Ammianus Marcellinus.  
No less fearful is that which is related by Nauclerus and Trithemius, that the year 1218. 
Naucler. Gen. 41. sub fin. Trit. Chron.  The enraged Sea entering into Frisia, there were drowned in the Fields and in their own houses more than a hundred thousand persons. Langus adds; that afterwards in the year 1287. the Ocean again reentring the same Province, retired not till it had left 80000 persons drowned behind it. This mortality is not much in a whole Province in respect of what the Sea hath done in one only City. Surius in his Commentaries of the year 1509. writes, that the day of the Exaltation of the Cross in September the Sea betwixt Constantinople and Pera swelled with that rage and fury, that it passed over the walls of both Cities, and that there were drowned only of Turks in Coustantinople above 13000. Unto these so certain examples we shall not need to and what Plato writes, 
Tertul. Apolog. Cap. 39  although Tertullian and many Authors of these times approve it, That the Atlantic Island, which was seated in that spacious Ocean betwixt Spain and the West-Indies, and which was a greater part of the World then Asia and Africa both together, replenished with innumerable people, was by an Earthquake, and the rain of one only day and night, (in which the Heavens as it were melted themselves into water) and the Sea overpast his bounds, buried in the Ocean with all the Inhabitants, and never since appeared. But I will not make use of this History to exaggerate the force of the Elements enraged against man. The modern Stories, which we have related with more certainty, are sufficient, and by that, which happened in Frisia, may be seen with what fury the Ocean imprisoned within his proper limits issues forth, when God permits it to fight against Sinners. What shall be then when the Lord of all shall arm all the Elements against them, and shall give the Alarm to all creatures to revenge him upon men so ungrateful for his infinite benefits?  
The Air also, which is an Element so sweet and gentle, in which we live, and by which we breath, when God slacking the bridle draws force out of weakness, with no less fury ruins and overthrows all it meets. It hath been seen to tear up whole woods by the roots, and transport the trees to places far distant. 
Ovied. In Hist. Indic. l. 6. ca 3. Surius in Comment. Conrade. Argen. in Chron.  Surius writes that the 28 of June in the year 1507 at midnight there arose such a Tempest in Germany, that it made the strongest Buildings shake, uncovered Houses, rooted up Trees, and threw them a great distance off. Conradus Argentinas writes, That Henry the sixth being Emperor, he himself saw great Beams of Timber blown from the roof of the chief Church in Ments, as big as the Beams of a Wine-press, and that of heavy wood as Oak, flying in the air above a miles distance. Above all who is not amazed at what Josephus writes in his Antiquities, and Eusebius in Praepar. Evangel. that the Tower of Babylon, which was the most strong and prodigious Building of the World, was by God overthrown with a Tempest? What shall I speak of those fearful Tempests of hail and lightning, flying through the air from place to place to chastise Sinners: one of which slew all the Flocks and Herds of the Egyptians: And in Palestine of another Hail of a strange greatness, that slew innumerable Amorites? Of latter times in these parts in the year 1524. Clavitellus writes that near Cremona there fell Hail as big as Hen's eggs; 
Clau. Fol. 260. Corn. A lap. in cap. 9 Exod. Olaus Mag. l. 1. c. 22. Conimb. In Meteor. c. de grandine. Hist. Tripart. l. 7. c. 22. Ezek. 38. Apoc. 16.  and in the Campania of Bolognia in the year 1537. there fell stones or 28 pound weight. Olaus Magnus writes that in the North Hail hath fallen as big as the head of a man. And the Tripartite cap History, that the year 369. there happened such a Tempest in Constantinople, that the Hail was as rocks. Certainly it is not then much what the Prophet Ezekiel says, that in the end of the World shall fall huge stones: and what St. John writes, that they shall be of the weight of a talon, which is 125 pounds of Roman weight. With what horrible thunder shall that Tempest resound, which shall throw a stone of that greatness? In Seythia they writ that divers persons have fallen dead with the terrible noise of the thunders in those parts. What noise then shall those last Tempests make, which God shall send in the end of the World?  
All those alterations passed of the Elements are no more than skirmishes. What shall then be the battle which they are to give unto Sinners, when the Heavens shall shoot its arrows, and give the Alarm with prodigious thunders, and shall declare their wrath with horrible apparitions? 
Greg, lib. 4. dialog. Cap. 36. Joan. in Vit. Greg l. 1. c. 37. Zonar. in Iren. Plin. l. 1. c. 13.  St. Gregory the Great writes as an eye-witness, that in a great Pestilence at Rome he saw arrows visibly fall from Heaven, and strike many men. John the Deacon says it reigned arrows. How shall it the be, when the Heavens and Air rain pieces of stars? The world was amazed when ill the time of Irene and Constantine the Sun was darkened for 17 days together, and in the time of Vespasian the Sun and Moon appeared not during the space of 12 days. What shall it be in the last days, when the Sun shall hid his beams under a mourning Garment, and the Moon shall  herself with blood, to signify the wanes which all the creatures are to make with fire and blood against those who have despised their Creator? When on one side the Earth shall rouse itself up against them, and shall shake them off her back, as unwilling to endure their burden any longer? When the Sea shall pursue and assault them within their own houses, and the Air shall not permit them to be safe in the fields? Certainly it shall be then no wonder, if they shall desire the mountains to cover them, and the hills to hid them within their Caverns. But all this is rather to be imagined, then expressed; and the very thought of it is enough to make us tremble. The creatures now groan to see themselves abused by man in contempt of his and their Creator; but they shall then shake off their yokes, and shall revenge themselves of the aggrievances which they suffer under him, and the injuries he hath done unto the Creator of all. The violences of the Elements, and disturbances of Nature, which have and may happen hereafter, are nothing in respect of those, which shall be in the last days; the which St. Augustine says shall be much more horrible and dreadful than those which are past. And if those single and alone were so terrible, (as we have already seen,) what shall they be when they come all together and from all parts; when the whole world shall rebel against man; when all shall be confusion; when Summer shall be changed into Winter, and Winter into Summer, and no creature shall keep the prefixed law with them, who have not observed the Law of their Creator, that so they may revenge both God and themselves?   

§. 3.  
But that this most fearful alteration of the creatures, which shall happen, may be yet more apparent, we will specify. some of them out of the Apocalypse of St. John. Very dreadful is that which he mentions in the eighth Chapter of hail, and fire, with a rain of blood, so general, and in such abundance, that it shall destroy the third part of the Earth, of trees and green herbs. How horrible an amazement shall so general a rain cause amongst men? But it is not so to end. For immediately shall appear in the Air a huge mountain of fire, which shall fall all at once into the Sea, and dividing itself into several bodies shall burn the third part of the Fishes, the third part of Ships, and of what else shall be in the Ocean. The like effect shall proceed from a flame or prodigious Comet, which falling into the Rivers and Fountains, and there dividing itself into several parts, shall turn the waters bitter as wormwood, and make them so pestilential, as they shall infect those who drink them, and many shall die with their taste. An Angel shall then smite the Sun, Moon, and Stars, 
Apoc. 9  and deprive them of a third part of their light. But mote horrible than all, is that which follows; that after so many calamities the bottomless pit, which is hell, shall burst open, and out of his profound throat belch forth so thick a smoke, as shall wholly darken the Sun and Air: from which smoke shall sally forth a multitude of deformed Locusts, which in great swarms shall disperse themselves over the face of the whole earth, and leaving the fields, herbs, and what is sown, fall upon such men as have been unfaithful unto God, and shall for five month's torment them with greater rage than Scorpions. Some Doctor's understanding those Locusts according unto the Letter, 
Lessius de Perf. div. l. 13. c. 18. Cornel. in Apoc.  that they shall be a certain kind of true Locusts, but of a strange figure and fierceness; others that they shall be Devils of hell in the shape of Locusts; and it is no marvel, that in the destruction of the world Devils shall appear in visible forms, since in the destruction of Babylon they appeared in divers figures of beasts, as was prophesied by Isaias. But after what manner soever, St. John says that this Plague shall be so cruel, 
Isa. c. 34. & 13.  that men shall seek death, and shall not find it, and shall desire to die, and death shall fly from them.  
Many other plagues shall happen in those last days. For as before that God drowned the Egyptians, and delivered his people, he sent such plagues upon Egypt as are recorded in Exodus: so before the general destruction of Sinners in that universal Deluge, and Sea of fire, which shall cover the whole Earth, and out of which the Saints are to escape free, so much greater plagues shall proceed, as the whole World is greater than Egypt. For not only the Rivers and Fountains shall then ce turned into blood, but the whole Sea shall be converted into a most black gore. The Lord shall also in those days send horrible botches and sores upon men; and the Sun shall scorch them in that manner, as they shall lose their senses, and some of the wicked shall turn against God, and blaspheme as if they were already in hell. The Earth also shall tremble; and that not being the greatest which is recounted in the sixth Chapter of the Apocalypse, yet the Apostle relates such things of it, as are able to strike a fear and amazement into those who hear it. His words are these. There was a great Earthquake; 
Apoc. 6.  and the Sun became as sackcloth, and the Moon at blood; the Stars fell from Heaven as a Figtree cast off its green siggs, when it it shaken by a violent wind. The Heavens were folded up as a book, or as a roll of parchment: and all Mountains and Islands moved from their places. I leave unto the consideration of every one, what shall then become of those who remain alive in that conflict. St. John says that Kings and Princes, the Rich and Strong, Slaves and Freemen shall hid themselves in Caves, and Rocks, and shall say unto the Mountains and Hills, Fall upon us and cover us. And the same S. John says further, that there shall be yet a greater Earthquake, which shall be the greatest that ever happened since the foundation of the World was laid, in which the Islands shall sink, and the Mountains shall be made even with the Plains. Horrible lightnings and thunders shall affright the Inhabitants of the Earth, and hailstones shall fall of the weight of a Talon, which is of 5 Arrobas, an Hebrew Talon weighing 125 Roman pounds. This Plague joined with so strange an Earthquake, how shall it astonish those who are then alive?   

§ 4.  
But how shall it then far with Sinners, when after all shall come that general fire so often foretold in holy Scripture, which shall either fall from Heaven, 
Vide P. Grana. De novissi. Alb. Mag. in comp.  or asseend out of Hell, or (according to Albertus Magnus) proceed from both, and shall devour and consume all it meets with? Whither shall the miserable fly, when that River of flames, or (to say better) that Innundation and Deluge of fire shall so encompass them, as no place of surety shall be left, where nothing can avail but a holy life, when all besides shall perish in that universal ruin of the whole World? What shall it then profit the worldlings to have rich Vessels of gold and silver, curious Embroideries, precious Tapestries, pleasant Gardens, sumptuous Palaces, and all what the world now esteems, when they shall with their own eyes behold their costly Movables burnt, their rich and curious pieces of Gold melted, and their flourishing and pleasant Orchards consumed without power either to preserve them or themselves? All shall burn, and with it the World, and all the fame and memory of it shall die; and that which mortals thought to be immortal shall then end and perish. No more shall Aristotle be cited in the Schools, nor Ulpian alleged in the Tribunals; no more shall Plato be read amongst the Learned, nor Cicero imitated by the Orators; no more shall Seneca be admired by the understanding, nor Alexander extolled amongst Captains; all fame shall then die, and all memory be forgotten. O vanity of men, whose memorials are as vain as themselves; which in few years perish, and that which lasts longest can endure no longer than the World! What became of that Statue of maslie gold, which Gorgias the Leontin placed in Delphos to eternize his Name; and that of Gabrion in Rome; and that of Borosus with the golden tongue in Athens, and innumerable others erected to great Captains in brass or hardest marble? certainly many years since they are perished, or, if not yet, they shall perish in this great and general Conflagration. Only virtue no fire can burn.  
Three hundred sixty Statues were erected by the Athenians unto Demetrius Phalareus, for having governed their Commonwealth ten years with great virtue and prudence; but of so little continuance were these Trophies, that those very Emblems, which were raised by gratitude, were soon after destroyed by envy: and he himself who saw his Statues set up in so great a number, saw them also pulled down; but he still retained this comfort, which Christians may learn from him, that beholding how they threw his Images unto the ground, he could say at least, They cannot overthrow those Virtues, for which they were erected. If they were true Virtues, he said well; for those neither envy can demolish, nor humane power destroy: and which is more, the divine power will not in this general destruction of the World consume them, but will preserve in his eternal memory as many as shall persevere in goodness and die in his holy grace; for only Charity and Christian Virtues shall not end, when the World ends. The sight of those Triumphs exhibited by Roman Captains, when they conquered some mighty and powerful Kings, lasted but a while, and the memories of the Triumphers not much longer: and now there are few who know that Metellus triumphed over King Jugurtha, Aquilius over King Aristonicus, Atilius over King Antiochus, Marcus Antonius over the King of Armenia, Pompey over King Mithridates, Aristobulus and Hiarbas Emilius over King Perseus, and the Emperor Aurelius over Cen●bia the Queen of the Palmirens. If few know this but dumb Books and dead Paper, when those shall end, what shall then become of their memories? How many Histories hath fire consumed, and are now no more known then if they had never been Written? neither to do nor write can make the memory of man immortal. Aristarchus wrote more than a thousand Commentaries of several Subjects, of which not one line remains at present. Chrysippus wrote seven hundred Volumes, and now not one leaf is extant. Theophrastus' wrote three hundred, and sarce three or four remain. Above all is that which is reported of Dionysius Grammaticus, that he wrote three thousand five hundred works, and now not one sheet appears. But yet more is that which Jamlicus testifies of the great Trimegistus, that he composed thirty six thousand five hundred twenty five books, and all those are as if he had not written a letter; for 4 or 5 little and imperfect Treatises, which pass under his name, are none of his. Time even before the end of time leaves no Books nor Libraries. By the assistance of Demetrius Phalareus King Ptolemy collected a great Library in Alexandria, in which were stored all the Books he could gather from Caldee, Greece, and Egypt, which amounted to seventy thousand bodies; but in the Civil Wars of the Romans it perished by that burning which was caused by Julius Caesar. Another famous Library amongst the Greeks of Polycrates and Phisistratus was spoilt by Xerxes, The Library of Byzantium, which contained a hundred and twenty thousand Books, was burnt in the time of Basiliscus. That of the Roman Capitol was in the time of Comm●dus turned into ashes by lightning; and what have we now of the great Library of Pergamus, wherein were two hundred thousand Books? Even before the end of the World, the most constant things of the World die. And what great matter is it if those memorial in paper be burnt, since those in brass melt, and those of marble perish? That prodigious Amphitheatre, 
Vide Lips. In Amph.  which Stability Taurus raised of stone, was burnt in the time of Nero: the hard marble not being able to defend itself from the soft flames. The great riches of Corinth in gold and silver were melted when the Town was fired; those precious metals could neither with their hard-resist, nor with their value hire a friend to defend them from those furious flames. If this particular burning in the most flourishing time of the World caused so great a ruin, what shall that general one, which shall make an end of the World and all things with it?   

§ 5.  
Let us now consider (as we have already in Earthquakes and Deluges) what great astonishment and destruction hath sometime happened by some particular burn, that by them we may conceive the greatness of the horror and ruin, which will accompany that general one of the whole world. What lamentations were in Rome, when it burnt for seven days together? What shrieks were heard in Troy, when it was wholly consumed with flames? What howling and astonishment in Pentapolis, when those Cities were destroyed with fire from heaven? Some say they were ten Cities, Strabo thirteen, Josephus and Lira five, that which of faith is, that there were four at least, who with all their Inhabitants were consumed. What weeping was therein Jerusalem, when they beheld the House of God, the Glory of their Kingdom, the Wonder of the World involved in fire and smoke? And that we may draw nearer unto our own times, when lightning from Heaven fell upon Stockholme, the capital City of Sweden, and burnt to death above 1600 persons, besides an innumerable multitude of Women and Children, who hoping to escape the fire at land fled into the ships at Sea, but overcharging them were all drowned: Imagine what that people felt, when they saw their houses and goods on fire, and no possibility of saving them: when the Husband heard the shrieks and cries of his dying Wife: the Father of his little Children, and unawares perceived himself so encompassed with flames, that he could neither relieve them, nor free himself. What grief, 
Albert. Krant. Suec. l. 5. c. 3.  what anguish possessed the hearts of those unfortunate creatures, when to avoid the fury of the fire, they were forced to trust themselves to the no less cruel waves, when by their own overhasty crowdings and indiscretion they saw their Ships overwhelmed, and themselves compelled to escape the burning of their Country, to struggle with the water, and that which way soever they turned, they perceived death still to follow them, and were certain to perish? What shall be then the straits and exigences of that general burning, when those who shall escape Earthquakes, Inundations of the Sea, the fury of whirlwinds and lightning from Heaven, shall fall into that universal Fire, that Deluge of flames, which shall consume all, and make an end both of men and their memories? Of those who lived before the Flood, and were Masters of the World for so long a time, except it be of some few, which the Scripture mention, we know nothing. Those heroical actions, which certainly some of them performed, and gained by them incomparable fame, lie buried in the waters, and there remains no more memory of those who did them, than if they had never been born. No more permanent shall be the fame of those, which now resounds in the ears of the whole World, Cyrus, Alexander, Hannibal, Scipio, Caesar, Augustus, Plato, Aristotle, Hypocrates, Euclid, and the rest: no more World, no more Fame. This Fire shall end all that smoke.  
Nor is the World without convenient proportion to end in fire, which is now so full of smoke. There are few comparisons (as hath been said in the beginning of this work) which express better what the World is, than that which St. Clement the Roman learned of St. Peter the Apostle, who said the World was like a house full of smoke, which in such manner blinds the eyes, as it differs not those within it to see things as they are; and so the World with its deceits so disguises the nature of humane things, as we perceive not what they are. Ambition and humane honour (which the World so much dotes after) are no more than smoke without substance, which so blinds our understandings, that we know not the truth of that we so much covet. It is no marvel that so much smoke comes at last to end in flames. The smoke of the Mountains Vesuvius and Aetna, when it ends in fire, and bursts forth into those innumerous flames, hath amazed the World, and rivers of fire have been seen to issue from their bowels. 
Zon. In Tito. Proc. l. 2.  Vesuvius is near unto Naples, and the fire hath sometimes sallied forth with that impetuous violence, that, as grave Authors affirm, the ashes have been seen in Constantinople and Alexandria. And St. Augustine writes, 
St. Aug. l. 3. de Civit. c. 31.  that the ashes of Mount Aetna overwhelmed the City of Catanea: and in our time, when Vesuvius burst out, the very flame of it terrified places far distant and secure. And now lately in the year 1638. the third of July near the Island of St. Michael one of the Terceras, the fire bursting out from the bottom of the Sea 150 fathoms deep, and overcoming the weight of so huge a mass of water sent up his flames unto the clouds, and made many places (although far distant) to tremble. With what fury shen shall the general Conflagration of the World burst forth? that part, which shall issue forth of Hell, and from beneath the Earth, shall fill the World with ashes before it be involved in flames; and when a crack of thunder or a flash of lightning amazes us so much, that fire which falls from heaven what violence and noise shall it bring along with it? Lot the Nephew of Abraham, being secure in conscience, and promised by the Angel of God, that for his sake the City of Segor should not be burnt, but that he might rest safe in it, was notwithstanding so affrighted with the fire which fell upon other Cities in that Valley of Pentapolis, that notwithstanding he saw it not, yet he held himself not late, but retired unto the Mountains. What counsel shall sinners take in that extremity, when their own Conscience shall be their accusors, and when they shall behold the World all on fire about them? whither shall they fly for safety, when no place will afford it? Shall they climb unto the Mountains? thither the flames will follow them. Shall they descend into the Valleys? thither the fire will pursue them. Shall they shut themselves up in strong Castles and Towns? but there the wrath of God will assault them, and that fire will pass their Fosses, consume the Bulwarks, and make an end both of them and their fortunes.  
Besides the contempt of all things, which the world esteems, which we may draw from this general destruction of it by fire, we may also perceive the abomination of sin: since God to purify the World from that uncleanness, wherewith our offences have polluted it, is resolved to cleanse it with fire, as he anciently washed it with the waters of the Deluge. Such are our sins, that for being only committed in the World, the World itself is condemned to die; what shall then become of those who sinned? 
Lesle. de perf. div. l. 13. c. 10.  But from this so terrible a fire the Saints then alive shall be free, that it may appear it was only prepared for Sinners, and that nothing can then avail but virtue and holiness. The rich man shall not be delivered by his wealth, nor the mighty by his power, nor the crafty by his wiles; only the just shall be freed by his virtues; none shall escape the terror of that day by fast sailing ships or speed of horses: the Sea itself shall burn, and the fire shall overtake the swiftest Post; only holiness and charity shall defend the Servants of Christ: unto whom the tribulations of those times shall serve to purify their Souls by suffering that in this life with reward, which they should otherwise have done for a time in the other without it. Albertus Magnus observes the convenience of the two Elements, by which God resolved twice to destroy the World: The first by water against the fire of the flesh and heat of concupiscence, which so inordinately tytannized over all virtue before the general Flood: The second he hath appointed to be by fire against the coldness of charity, which in those last days shall reign in the aged and decrepit World. And as in the Deluge of waters only the chaste Noah and his Wife, who were most continent in Matrimony, and his Sons and Daughters, who observed chastity all the time they continued in the Ark, escaped drowning: so in that general fire of the World only the Just, who shall be replenished with charity, shall be free from burning. The Deluge of waters overwhelmed not him, who was not burnt with the heat of carnal love: neither shall the Deluge of fire destroy them, who are inflamed with divine charity.    

CAP. VIII.  
How the World ought to conclude with so dreadful an end, in which a general Judgement is to pass of all that is in it.  
TO be subject to an end (as hath been said) were sufficient to breed in us a contempt of all things temporal; for what is to conclude in a not being, is already not much distant from it, and so differing little from nothing; ought not to be valued much more than if it were nothing. But unto this necessity of ending is annexed that so notable circumstance of ending after so dreadful and terrible a manner, as we have already seen. I have therefore been so full in expressing of it, that we may perceive by this so strange a manner of conclusion, what our exorbitant malice in the abuse of the Creatures hath added unto their proper vanity; for it is we, who by our vices have made them of much less value, than they are by their own nature: so as in the condition they now stand they are much to be despised. Natural delights are in themselves more pure, and less hurtful than humane malice hath made them, which hath rendered them more costly dangerous and difficult, and therefore less pleasant; for what is subject to care and danger must of necessity be mixed with trouble. Honey loses its sweetness if mixed with Gall, and the most generous Wine is corrupted with a little Vinegar; by which may appear the error of our appetites, which striving to augment our pleasures hath lessened them, and by adding inordinate relishes to what nature had simply and regularly provided, hath rather invented new afflictions than contents. Our gluttony is not pleased with savoury food, but what we eat must be rare and costly: it contents not itself with the bare taste of meat, which is its proper object, but seeks after smell and colour; it is not Cooked, if not disguised, neither will that serve, if not accommodated with several sorts of Spices. Salt and Sugar seasons not what we eat, but Musk and Amber. Neither is our feeling content with the warmth of our Apparel, but looks after colour, fashion, and expense; and we are more solicitous that it may appear neat and curious unto others, than that it may decently cover and cherish our necessitated members, taking occasion by the necessity of nature to nourish our vices, Apparel serving rather the ambition and pride of our minds, than the nakedness of our bodies.  
But it is not much that we content not ourselves with the natural use of things, since we are not pleased with nature itself, but adulterate it with art; not only women, but men die their hair, and counterfeit their faces and statures, and the Creature to the injury of the Creator presumes to form himself after another manner, than God thought fit to make him. In like manner riches are not measured out for humane necessity and conveniency, but for pomp and arrogancy: in the acquisition and use whereof we look not so much what suffices for life, and the lawful pleasures of it, as what serves for pride and ostentation, wherein consuming our wealth and fortunes we lose the use of them, and what was only ordained as a remedy of our necessities, by our abuse augment and make them greater: Whereupon it commonly happens that rich men are most in want, and great personages are more indebted and engaged than meaner people. Honour and Fame are so adulterated, that they are not only desired as a reward of virtues, but of vices. All these abuses are the faults of the World, which hath made humane life more troublesome and full of danger, than it is by necessity and condition; and therefore it was convenient that the World should end with trouble and confusion, since the abuse of it hath been with so much shame and impudence: and that itself also should be judged, which hath sustained and fed the vanity and folly of man with things so base and despicable. The ancient Philosophers placed virtue and the felicity of man in living according unto nature; but what content and happiness can there be, when all the pleasures of life are so sophisticated with art, as they are wholly different from that which nature requires? and what virtue can be expected from them, who live according to so much malice? But Christians, who ought not only to live conformable to nature, but unto grace and the example of Christ, make it apparent how just it is, that the wicked should give an account of those things, which they have used so contrary unto his divine pleasure.  

§. 2.  
And so not only those things, which are spoken of in the precedent Chapter, are to be of terror and fear in the end of the World, but more especially that strict account which God shall then exact from the whole Lineage of man. For as in the death of particular persons there is to be a particular judgement, so in the death of the World a general Judgement is to pass upon all; and as the most terrible thing of death is that particular reckoning, so in the end of the World is that universal reckoning, when God shall demand an account of his divine benefits, and shall judge the abuses of them and all the sins of men: making it to appear to the whole World how good and gracious he hath been towards them, and how rebellious and ungrateful they have been towards him. The manifestation of which truth will be of more terror unto the wicked than all the plagues and prodigies of Earthquakes, Inundations, Tempests, Locusts, Pestilences, Famines, Wars, Lightnings and Fire, which have gone before. 
Guigo Carth. in med.  Therefore Guigo Carthusianus said well, that the most terrible thing of that day was the truth, that should then appear against Sinners. And without doubt neither those stupendious Thunders, nor that furious roaring of the Sea, nor any other wonder of those last times shall bring that confusion upon Sinners, as to see the great reason, which God had to be served, and the none at all, which they then had to displease him. It was therefore most convenient that after the particular Judgement of each man apart there should be an universal Judgement of all together, in which God should make appear the righteousness of his proceed, and give a general satisfaction of his justice even to the damned and devils. And because in the death of Man (as St. Thomas notes) all, 
3. p. 2. d. q. 59 art. 5.  what was his, dies not, for there remains his memory, his Children, his Works, his Example, his Body, and many of those things in which he placed his affection: it is therefore reason that all those should enter into that general Judgement with him, that he may know that he is not only to give an account of his life, but of those things also which he leaves behind him. The fame and memory of Man after death doth not oftentimes correspond unto the deserts of his life, and it is just that this deceit should be taken off; and that the virtuous, whom the World made no account of, should then be acknowledged for such, and he who had fame and glory without merit, should then change it into shame and confusion.  
O how deceived shall the ambitious then find themselves, who to the end they might leave a name behind them neither observed justice with others, nor virtue in themselves; how shall they change their glory into ignominy? Let us by the way look upon some of them, who have filled the world with their vain fame, who shall in that day by so much suffer the greater disgrace, by how much the world hath bestowed more undeserved honours upon them. Who more glorious than Alexander the Great, and Julius Caesar, whom the world hath ever esteemed as the most great and valorous Captains that it ever produced, and their glory still continues fresh after so many ages past? What was all they did but acts of rapine without right or title, unjustly tyrannising over what was none of theirs, and shedding much innocent blood to make themselves Lords of the Earth? All these actions were vicious, and therefore unworthy of honour, fame, or memory; and since they have for so many hundreds of years remained in the applause and admiration of men, there shall in that day fall upon them so much ignominy, shame and confusion, as shall recompense that past honour, which they have unworthily received, and viciously desired. This ambition was so exorbitant in Alexander, that hearing Anaxartes▪ the Philosopher affirm that there were many worlds, he sighed with great resentment, and cried out, Miserable me, that am not yet Lord of one. This devilish and vain pride was extolled by many for greatness of spirit, but was in truth the height of vanity and arrogant ambition, which could not be contained in one World, but with one desire tyrannised over many: and shall then be punished with the public ignominy of all men, not only in respect of the fame which he hath so unjustly enjoyed, but of the ill example which he hath given to others, and principally unto, Caesar, who as he followed his example in tyranny, did likewise imitate him in ambition, and the desire of rule and vain honour; 
De Alex.. Vide Val. Max. l. 8. De Julio Caes. Vid. Fulg. l. 8.  and therefore beholding his Statue in Cadiz at such time as he was Questor in Spain, complained of his own fortune, that at the age, wherein Alexander had subjugated all Asia, he had yet done nothing of importance; counting it for a matter of importance to tyrannize over the world, and to the end he might make himself Lord of it, to Captivate his Country. In like manner Aristotle so celebrated for his Writings, in which he consumed many sleepless nights only to purchase Glory, and to make it greater in his confuting of other Philosophers, used little ingenuity, taking their words in a far other sense than they meant or spoke them: This labour of his, since it proceeded not from Virtue, but was performed with so little candour and sincerity merely to obtain a vain reputation, deserved no Glory; and therefore a confusion equal unto the Honour, they unduly now give him, shall then fall upon him. And since he put his Disciple Theodectus to so much shame, his own ambition will be to him occasion of greater confusion. 
Vide Val. Max. l. 8.  Aristotle gave to this his Disciple Theodectus certain Books of the Art of Oratory, to the end he should divulge them: But afterwards resenting much that another should carry all the praise, he owned the said Books publicly. And for this reason in other Books which he wrote, he citys himself, saying, As he had said in the Books of Theodectus. Wherein is clearly seen Aristotle's ambition or desire of Glory, and therefore was unworthy of it, and with just ignominy shall pay the unjust Glory, he now possesseth. In so much then as not only Fame and Memory are vain in respect they are to end and finish, as all things with the world are, but also because their undeserved and pretended Glory is then to be satisfied with equal shame and confusion, the affront they shall receive in that one day being equivalent unto the fame and honour of thousands of years; Neither can the most famous men amongst the Gentiles, be admired by so many in ten ages, as shall then scorn and contemn them. How many are ignorant that there ever was an Alexander? And how many in all their lives never heard of Aristotle? And yet shall in that day know them, not for their honour, but confusion. The name of the Great and admired Alexander is unknown unto more Nations, than known. The Japonlans, Chinese, Cafres', Angolans, other people and most extended and spacious Kingdoms never heard who he was, and shall then know him only for a public Thief, a Robber, an Oppressor of the World, and for a great and an ambitious Drunkard.  
The same, which is to pass in Fame and Memory, is also to pass in Children, in whom, as St. Thomas says, 
St. Thom. supra.  the Fathers live: and as from many good Parents spring evil Children, so contrariwise from evil Parents come those that are good, which shall be in that day a confusion to those who begat them, and by so much the greater, by how much worse was the example which they gave them. Neither shall the Judge only inquire into the example they have given their Children, but also unto strangers, and principally the works which they have left behind them. And therefore as from the deceit of Arius (saith the Angelical Doctor) and other Heretics have and shall spring divers Errors and Heresies until the end of the World: so it is fit that in that last day of time should appear the evil which hath been occasioned by them, that we may in this life not only take a care for ourselves but others; so as it is a terrible thing (as Cajetan notes upon that Article before mentioned of the Angelical Doctor,) that the Divine judgement shall extend even to those things which are by accident, which is, as the Divines speak, unto those which are besides our will and intention.  
St. Thomas also informs us, That by reason of the body, which remains after death, it was convenient that the sentence of each one in particular should be again repeated in that general Judgement of the whole World: Because many Bodies of just men are now buried in the maws of wild Beasts, or otherwise remain without interrement; and to the contrary great sinners have had sumptuous Burials and magnificent Sepulchers, all which are to be recompensed in that day of the Lord; and the sinner, whose Body reposed in a rich Mausoleum, shall then see himself not only without Ornaments and Beauty, but tormented with intolerable pains; and the just, who died and had no Sepulchers, but were devoured by ravenous Birds, shall appear with the brightness of the Heavens, and with a Body glorious as the Sun. Let those consider this, who consume vast sums in preparing for themselves stately Sepulchers, and beautiful Urns, engraving their Names, Actions, and Dignities in rich Marbles, and let them know that all this, if they shall be damned, shall serve them in that day but for their greater shame and reproach. Out of this life we can carry nothing but our good works, and let us not add unto our evil ones that of vainglory in seeking to leave behind us a vain Fame and Renown. 
Plin. l. 56. c. 13.  What remains unto King Porsenna of that heavy burden, wherewith he grieved and afflicted his whole Kingdom, in rearing him a Sepulchre of that rare and sumptuous workmanship, but a testimony of his pride and folly? In like manner the Monument of the Emperor Adrian, which was the Beauty and Glory of Rome, shall be then changed into a scorn. Lastly St. Thomas teaches us, that Temporal things, on which we place our affections, because some last a longer, and some a shorter time, after death shall all enter with us into Divine judgement. Let us take heed therefore whereon we set our hearts, since the accomplishing of what we wish may be a punishment of our desires. Those things of the Earth, which we most love, and desire should continue, if they be taken from us, it is a chastisement of our earthly affection: and if we be permitted to enjoy them, let us fear that they be not the temporal Reward of some good Work, which may either diminish or deprive us of the Eternal. Besides this because not only the Soul of man hath offended, but the whole man both in Soul and Body, it was fit that both Soul and Body should be judged and appear before the Tribunal of Christ, and that in public, because none should presume to sin in secret, since his sins are to be revealed and made known to all, past, present, and to come. A terrible case it is, that this passage of Divine judgement, which (according as we have said out of holy Job) appears unto the Saints more terrible than to suffer all the pains of Hell, is twice to be acted, and this so bitter trance to be again repeated the second time, being unto sinners of greater horror and confusion than the first.    

CAP. IX.  
Of the last day of Time.  
THat we may now come to handle the manner of this universal Judgement, which is to pass upon time and men, we are to suppose that this fire, which is to precede the coming of Christ, is at his descent to continue in assistance of his Divine justice, and after his return unto Heaven attended by all the just, to remain until it hath purged and purified these inferior Elements; the which is noted by Albertus Magnus, 
Albert. Magn. in comp. Theol. lib. 7. c. 15. Lesle. de perf. div. lib. 13. c. 30. & 23.  and collected from divers places of the Divine Scriptures. We are also to suppose that this coming of Christ is to be with greater terror and Majesty, than hath been yet manifested by any of the Divine persons, either in himself or any of his Creatures. If an Angel which represented God, and was only to promulgate the Law, came with that terror and Majesty unto Mount Sinai, as made the Hebrew people, though purified and prepared for his coming, to quake and tremble; what shall the Lord of the Law do, when he himself comes to take an account of the Law, and to revenge the breach of it? With what terror and Majesty shall he appear unto men plunged in sin, and unprepared for his reception, who are then to be all present, and judged in that last day of time?  
The day in which the Law was given was very memorable unto the Hebrews: And this day, where an account of the Law is to be given, will be horrible, and ought perpetually to remain in the memory of all mankind. But before we declare what shall pass in this, let us say something of what hath already passed in that, that from the horror of the first appearance we may gather something of what shall happen in the second, and from the Majesty, wherewith an Angel appeared when he gave the Law, collect something of the Majesty of the Lord of Angels when he judges the Law. Fifty days after the departure of the Sons of Israel out of Egypt, after so many plagues and punishments poured upon that Kingdom, after the burying of the unbelieving Egyptians, who pursued them, in the bottom of the Red Sea, and that the Hebrews having escaped their enemies were lodged round about Mount Sinai, 
Deut. 33. Vid. Barrad. l. 6. itin. c. 5. Ps. 65. Deut. 33.  There was seen to come in the Air from far, that is, from Mount Seir in Idumea, a Lord of great power, attended with an infinite multitude of Angels: In so much as David sings, that ten thousand compassed about his Chariot. And Moses speaking of many thousands which attended him, says also, that he carried in his right hand the Law of God all of flaming fire; and yet he who came in this height of Majesty, waited on with those Celestial Spirits, was not God, 
Act. 7.  but, as we learn from St. Stephen, only an Angel, and believed to be St. Michael, who because he came in the Name of God, the holy Scriptures calls the Lord. This Angel thus accompanied came seated on a dark condensed Cloud, which cast forth frequent flashes of Lightning and resounded with dreadful cracks of Thunder, 
Deut. 33.  from Mount Seir unto Mount Haran in the Land of the Ishmaelites, and from thence with the same Majesty passed through the Air unto Mount Sinai, where the Children of Israel lay encamped: who at the dawning of the day astonished with that fearful noise, stood quaking and trembling in their Tents. No sooner was the Angel arrived unto Mount Sinai, which, as the Apostle says, 
Heb. 42.  was covered with rain, whirlwinds, storms and tempests, but he descended in flames, which reached betwixt Heaven and Earth, from whence issued forth a smoke black and thick as from a furnace; during which time a Trumpet was heard to sound with that piercing vehemence, that as it increased in loudness, so fear increased in the amazed Israelites, who now stood quaking at the foot of the Mountain, but were by the Angel (so much would he be respected) commanded by the mouth of M●ses not to approach it, lest they died. After which the Angel began with a dreadful voice to proclaim the Law: which was pronounced with so much life and vigour, that not withstanding the horrid noise of Thunder, the flashes of lightning, and the shrill and penetrating sound of the Trumpet still continued, yet all the Hebrews, who with their Tents overspread those vast deserts, and many thousands of Egyptians, who were converted and followed them, herded, conceived, and understood it clearly and distinctly; Nay, so piercing was the voice, that it entered and imprinted itself in their very bowels, speaking unto every one of them as if it had spoken to him only, which caused so great a fear and reverence in the people, that they thought they could not live, if the Angel continued speaking; and therefore besought it as a grace that he would speak unto them by the way of Moses, lest they should die. Nay, Moses himself accustomed to see and work stupendious wonders, and being of a great and generous spirit, confessed his fear, saying, as we have it from St. Paul, 
Heb. 12.  That he was terrified and trembled.  
Let a man now consider how memorable was that day unto the Hebrew Nation, wherein they saw such Visions, heard such Thunders, and felt such Earthquakes, as it is no wonder that the great fear, which fell upon them in that day of Prodigies, made them think they could not live: Yet was all this nothing in respect of the terror of that great day, wherein the Lord of Angels is to demand an account of the violation of the Law. For after the sending far greater plagues than those of Egypt, after burning in that Deluge of fire the Sinners of the world, the Saints remaining still alive, that that Article of our Faith may be literally fulfilled, From thence he shall come to judge the quick and the dead, The Heavens shall open, and over the Valley of Josaphat the Redeemer of the World, attended by all the Angels of Heaven in visible forms of admirable splendour shall with a Divine Majesty descend to judge it. Before the Judge shall be born his Standard, 
Chrys. Tom. 3. Serm. de Cruse.  which St. chrysostom and divers other Doctors affirm shall be the very Cross on which he suffered. Then shall the just (such being the force and vigour of their spirits, as will elevate their terrene and heavy bodies) meet (as the Apostle says) their Redeemer in the Air, who at his issuing forth of the Heavens shall with a voice, that may be heard of all the world, pronounce this his Commandment: Arise ye dead, and come unto Judgement: Which shall be proclaimed by four Angels in the four Quarters of the World with such vehemence, that the sound shall pierce unto the infernal Region, from whence the Souls of the damned shall issue forth, and re-enter their bodies, which shall from thenceforward suffer the terrible torments of Hell. The Souls also of those, who died only in Original sin, shall come and possess again their bodies free from pain or torment; and the Souls of the blessed filling their bodies with the four gifts of Glory, shall make them more resplendent than the Sun: and with the gift of agility shall join themselves with those just who remain alive in the Air in their passable bodies, which being yet mortal, and therefore not able to endure those vehement affections of the heart, of joy, desire, reverence, love and admiration of Christ, shall then die, and in that instant behold the Divine Essence; after which their Souls shall be again immediately united to their bodies, before they can be corrupted, or so much as fall unto the ground, and thence forward continue glorious; for in the moment wherein they die they shall be purified from those noxious humours and qualities, wherewith our bodies are now infected. And therefore it was convenient they should first die, that being so cleansed from all filth, they might by the restitution of their blessed Souls receive the gifts of Glory. Considering then the so different. conditions of the Souls of men, who can express the joy of those happy Souls, when they shall take possession of their now glorious and beautiful bodies, which were long since eaten by worms or wild beasts, some four, some five thousand years ago turned into dust and ashes? What thanks shall they give to God, who after so long a separation hath restored them to their ancient Companions? What gratulations shall the Souls of them, who lived in austerity and penance, give unto their own bodies for the mortifications and rigours which they have suffered, for the hair-shirts, disciplines, and fasts which they have observed? To the contrary, the Souls of the damned how shall they rage's and curse their own flesh, since to please and pamper it hath been the occasion of their torments, and eternal unhappiness? Which miserable wretches, wanting the gift of agility, and so not able of themselves to go unto the place of Justice, shall be hurried against their wills by Devils, all trembling and full of fear.  

§ 2.  
The Reprobates being then in the Valley of Josaphat, and the Predestinate in the Air, the Judge shall appear above Mount Olivet, 
Zach. 1.  unto whom the clouds shall serve as a Chariot, and his most glorious body shall cast forth rays of such incomparable splendour, as the Sun shall appear but as a coal; for even the Predestinate shall shine as the Sun, but the light and brightness of Christ shall as far exceed them, as the Sun does the least Star. The which most admirable sight shall be yet more glorious by those thousand millions of excellent and heavenly spirits which shall attend him, who having form themselves acreal bodies of more or less splendour, according to their Hierarchy and Order, shall fill the whole space betwixt Heaven and Earth with unspeakable beauty and variety. The Saviour of the World shall sit upon a Throne of great Majesty made of a clear and beautiful Cloud, his countenance shall be most mild and peaceable towards the good, and, though the same, most terrible unto the bad. In the like manner out of his sacred wounds shall issue beams of light towards the just full of love and sweetness, but unto sinners full of fire and wrath, who shall weep bitterly for the evils which issue from them. 
Psa. 109. 1 Cor. 15. Phil. 2.  So great shall be the Majesty of Christ, that the miserable Damned, and the Devils themselves, notwithstanding all the hate they bear him, shall yet prostrate themselves and adore him, and to their greater confusion acknowledge him for their Lord and God: And those who have most blasphemed and outraged him, shall then bow before him, fulfilling the promises of the eternal Father, That all things should be subject unto him, That he would make his enemies his footstool, and That all knees should bend before him. Here shall the Jews to their greater confusion behold him, whom they have crucified: and here shall the evil Christians see him, whom they have again crucified with their sins; here also shall the Sinners behold him in glory, whom they have despised for the base trifles of the earth. What an amazement will it be to see him King of so great Majesty, who suffered so much ignominy upon the Cross, and even from those whom he redeemed with his most precious blood? What will they then say, who in scorn crowned the sacred temples of the Lord with thorns, put a Reed in his hand for a Sceptre, clothed him in some old and broken Garment of purple, buffeted and spit upon his blessed face? And what will they then say, unto whose consciences Christ hath so often proposed himself in all his bitter passion and painful death, and hath wrought nothing upon them but a continuance of greater sins, valuing his precious blood shed for their salvation no more than if it were the blood of a Tiger, or their greatest enemy? I know not how the memory of this doth not burst our hearts with compunction. 
In vit. PP.  Let us take the counsel of a holy Father in the Desert, who when one asked him, What he should do to soften and mollify his stony heart, answered, That he should remember that he was to appear before the Lord who was to judge him; whose sight, as another holy Monk said, would be so terrible unto the wicked, that if it were possible that Souls could die, the whole world at the coming of the Son of God would be struck dead with fear and terror.  
At the side of the Throne of Christ shall be placed another Throne of great glory for his most holy Mother, not then to intercede for sinners, but for the greater confusion of those, who, when time served, have not addressed themselves unto her, nor reaped the benefit of her Protection: that she may be honoured in the sight of the whole World. There shall be also other Thrones for the Apostles and those Saints, who poor in spirit have left all for Christ; who sitting now as Judges with their Redeemer, and condemning by their good example the scandalous lives of sinners, shall approve the Sentence of the Supreme Judge, and declare his great Justice before the world, with which the wicked shall remain confounded and amazed: and it shall then be fulfilled which so many years since was prophesied by the Wiseman, 
Sap. 5.  The wicked beholding the just, who were despised in this life, to be so much honoured, shall be troubled with horrible fear, and shall wonder at their unexpected salvation, saying amongst themselves with great resentment and much grief and anguish of Spirit: These are they who sometime were unto us matter of scorn and laughter. We fool's imagined their life to be madness, and that their end would be without honour; but behold they are counted amongst the Children of God, and their lot is amongst the Saints. We erred and wandered from the ways of truth, and the light of Justice was not with us, nor the Sun of wisdom did shine upon us. We wearied ourselves in the ways of wickedness and perdition, and walked in paths of difficulty, and knew not the way of the Lord. What hath our pride profited us? and what hath the pomp of our riches availed us? all those things have passed like a shadow, or like a messenger who passes in haste, or like a ship which cuts the instable waves, and leaves no tract where it went, and are now consumed in our wickedness. The Tyrants who have afflicted and put to death the holy Martyrs, what will they now say, when they shall see them in this Glory? Those who trampled under foot the justice & right of the poor of Christ, what will they do, when they shall behold them their Judges? And what will the wicked Judges do or say, when they shall see themselves condemned for their unjust Sentences, 
Eccl. 3. & 10.  fulfilling that which was said by Solomon; I saw a great evil beneath the Sun, that in the Throne of Judgement was seated impiety, and wickedness in the place of Justice: and I said in my heart God shall judge the good and evil, and then shall be seen who every one is? Here in this life the just and sinner have not always the place which they deserve; many times the wicked takes the right hand, and the holy the left. Christ shall then rectify all those grievances, and shall separate the wheat from the tares: The good he shall place upon his right hand, elevated in the Air, that all the world may honour them as holy: And the wicked shall stand far at his left, remaining upon the Earth to their own confusion and the scorn of all. How shall the sinners envy the just, when they shall see them so much honoured, and themselves so much despised? How confounded shall be the Kings of the earth, when they shall behold their Vassals in Glory, and Lords when they shall see their slaves amongst the Angels, and themselves in equal rank with Devils? For it seems the Devils than shall assume bodies of Air, that they may be sensibly seen by the wicked, and shall stand amongst them for their greater affront and torment.   

§ 3.  
Immediately the Books of all men's Consciences shall be opened, and their sins published to the whole world; The most secret sins of their hearts, and those filthy acts which were committed in private; Those sins which through shame and bashfulness were concealed in Confession, or covered with excuses, crooked and sinister intentions, hidden and unknown treacheries, counterfeit and dissembling virtues, all shall then be manifested; feigned friends, adulterous wives, unfaithful servants, false witnesses, shall all to their great shame and confusion be then discovered. If we are now so sensible when people murmur at us, or that some infamous act of ours is known to one or two persons, how shall we be then troubled when all our faults together are made known unto all, both men and Angels? How many are there now, who if they imagined that their father or brother knew what they had committed in secret, would die with grief? And yet in that day not only fathers and brothers, but friends and enemies, and all the world shall to their confusion know it. The virtuous actions of the just how secretly soever performed, their holy thoughts, their pious desires, their pure intentions, their good works, which the world now either disesteems, or calumniates as madness, shall then be manifested, and they for them shall be honoured by the whole world; virtue shall then appear admirable in all her beauty, and vice horrible in all her deformity. It shall then be seen how decent and beautiful it is for the great to humble themselves, for the offended to be silent, and pardon injuries: on the other side, how insolent and horrid a thing it is to trample upon the poor, to wrong the humble, to desire revenge, and Lord it over others. Then shall be also discovered the good works of the wicked, but for their greater affront, in that they have not persevered in doing well: and that calling to remembrance the good counsel and advice which they have given unto others, which hath been a means of their salvation, they may be now confounded to have neglected it themselves to their own damnation. The sins also of the just shall be published, but with all their repentance, and the good which they have drawn from their faults, in such sort as it shall no ways redound to their shame, but be an argument of rendering thanks and divine praises to the Lord, who was pleased to pardon them. But nothing shall be of greater despite and confusion unto sinners, than to behold those, who have committed equal & greater sins than themselves, to be then in Glory, because they made use of the time of repentance, which they despised and neglected. This confusion shall be augmented by that inward charge which God shall lay against them of his divine benefits, unto which their Angel guardians shall assist by giving testimony how often they have dissuaded them from their evil courses, and how rebellious and refractory they have still been to their holy inspirations. The Saints also shall accuse them that they have laughed at their good counsels, and shall set forth the dangers, whereunto they them-themselves have been subject by their ill example.  
The just Judge shall then immediately pronounce Sentence in favour of the good in these words of love and mercy, Come you blessed of my Father, possess the Kingdom which was prepared for you from the creation of the world. O what joy shall then fill the Saints, 
Abul. in Mat. Jansen. Sot. Les. l. 13. c. 22. & alii. Isai. 30.  and what spite and envy shall burst the hearts of Sinners! but more when they shall hear the contrary Sentence pronounced against themselves: Christ speaking unto them with that severity, which was signified by the Prophet Isaiah, when he said, His lips were filled with indignation, and his tongue was a devouring fire. More terrible than fire shall be those words of the Son of God unto those miserable wretches, when they shall hear him say, Depart from me ye cursed into eternal fire prepared for Satan and his Angels. With this Sentence they shall remain for ever overthrown, and covered with eternal sorrow and confusion. Ananias and Saphira were struck dead only with the hearing the angry voice of St. Peter; What shall the Reprobate be in hearing the incensed voice of Christ? This may appear by what happened unto St. Catharine of Sienna, who being reprehended by St. Paul, 
In vita ejus c. 24.  who appeared unto her, only because she did not better employ some little parcel of time, said, that she had rather be disgraced before the whole World, than once more to suffer what she did by that reprehension. But what is this in respect of that reprehension of the Son of God in the day of vengeance? for if when he was led himself to be judged, he with two only words, I am, overthrew the astonished multitude of Soldiers to the ground, how shall he speak when he comes to judge? 
In vita PP. l. 5. apud Rosul.  (In the book of the lives of the Fathers, composed by Severus Sulpitius and Cassianus, it is written of a certain young man desirous to become a Monk, whom his Mother by many reasons, which she alleged, pretended to dissuade, but all in vain; for he would by no means alter his intention, defending himself still from her importunity with this answer, I will save my soul, I will assure my salvation; it is that which most imports nic. She perceiving that her modest requests prevailed nothing, gave him leave to do as he pleased: and he according to his resolution entered into Religion; but soon began to flag and fall from his fervour, and to live with much carelessness and negligence. Not long after his Mother died, and he himself fell into a grievous infirmity, and being one day in a Trance was rapt in spirit before the Judgement Seat of God. He there found his Mother, and divers others expecting his condemnation; She turning her eyes, and seeing her Son amongst those who were to be damned, seemed to remain astonished, and spoke unto him in this manner; Why, how now Son; is all come to end in this? where are those words thou saidst unto me; I will save nay soul? was it for this thou didst enter into Religion? The poor man being confounded and amazed knew not what to answer; but soon after when he returned unto himself, and the Lord was pleased that he recovered and escaped his infirmity, and considering that this was a divine admonition, he gave so great a turn, that the rest of his life was wholly tears and repentance; and when many wished him that he would moderate and remit something of that rigour, which might be prejudicial unto his health, he would not admit of their advices, but still answered, I who could not endure the reprehension of my Mother, how shall I in the day of judgement endure that of Christ and his Angels? Let us often think of this, and let not only the angry voice of our Saviour make us tremble, 
Raph. Columb. Ser. 2. Domin. in Quadr.  but that terrible Sentence, which shall separate the wicked from his presence. Raphael Columba writes of Philip the second King of Spain, that being at Mass he heard two of his Grandees, who were near him, in discourse about some worldly business, which he then took no notice of, but Mass being ended, he called them with great gravity, and said unto them only these few words, You two appear no more in my presence: which were of that weight, that the one of them died of grief, and the other ever after remained stupefied and amazed. What shall it then be to hear the King of Heaven and Earth say; Depart ye cursed? and if the words of the Son of God be so much to be feared, what shall be his works of justice?  
At that instant the fire of that general burning shall invest those miserable creatures; 
Lesle. l. 13. c. 23.  the Earth shall open and Hell shall enlarge his throat to swallow them for all eternity, accomplishing the malediction of Christ, and of the Psalm which saith, 
Psal. 54.  Let death come upon them, and let them sink alive into hell. And in another place; Coals of fire shall fall upon them, 
Ps. 139.  and thou shalt cast them into the fire, and they shall not subsist in their miseries. And in another Psalm; 
Psal. 10.  Snares, fire, and sulphur shall rain upon sinners. Finally, that shall be executed which was spoken by St. John, That the Devil, Death, and Hell, and all, 
Apcc. 20.  who were not written in the Book of life, were cast into the lake of fire and brimstone, where they shall be eternally tormented with Antichrist and his false Prophets. And this is the second death, bitter, and eternal, which comprehends both the Souls and the Bodies of them who have died the spiritual death of sin, and the corporal death which is the effect of it. The Just shall then rejoice, according to David, 
Psal. 57  beholding the vengeance which the Divine Justice shall take upon sinners, and sing another song like that of Moses, 
Exod. 15.  when the Egyptians were drowned in the red sea, and that Song of the Lamb, related by St. John, 
Apoc. 15.  Great and marvellous are thy works, O Lord God omnipotent, just and righteous are thy ways, King of all Eternity; who will not fear thee O Lord, and magnify thy name? With those and thousand other Songs of joy and jubilee they shall ascend above the Stars in a most glorious triumph, until they arrive in the Empyrial Heaven; where they shall be placed in thrones of glory, which they shall enjoy for an eternity of eternities. In the mean time the earth, which was polluted for having sustained the Bodies of the damned, shall be purified in that general burning: and then shall be renewed the Earth, the Heavens, the Stars, and the Sun, which shall shine seven times more than before; and the creatures, which have here been violated and oppressed by the abuse of man, (whereof some had taken arms against him to revenge the injuries of their Creator, and others groaned under their burden with grief and sorrow) shall then rejoice to see themselves freed from the tyranny of sin and sinners, and joyful of the triumph of Christ shall put on mirth and gladness.  
This is the end wherein all time is to determine, and this the Catastrophe so fearful unto the wicked, where all things temporal are to conclude. Let us therefore take heed how we use them; and that we may use them well, let us be mindful of this last day, this day of justice and calamity, this day of terror and amazement; the memory whereof will serve much for the reformation of our lives. Let us think of it, and fear it, for it is the most terrible of all things terrible, and the consideration of it most profitable and available to cause in us a holy fear of God, and to convert us unto him. 
Joh. Curopol. in hist. apud Rad. in opusc. & in vitis PP. Occidentis.  John. Curopolata writes of Bogoris King of the Bulgarians a Pagan, who was so much addicted to the hunting of wild beasts, that he desired to have them painted in his Palace in all their fury and fierceness: and to that end commanded Methodius the Monk a skilful Painter to paint them in so horrible a manner, as the very sight might make the beholders tremble. The discreet Monk did it not, but in place of it painted the Day of Judgement, and presented it unto the King, who beholding that terrible act of Justice, and the coming of the Son of God to judge the World, crowning and rewarding the just, and punishing the wicked, was much astonished at it; and being after instructed left his bad life, and was converted to the faith of Christ. If only then the Day of Judgement painted was so terrible, what shall it be executed? Almost the same happened unto St. Dositheus, 
Anon. in Elog. Dorothei & Dosithei.  who being a young man, cokored and brought up in pleasures, had not in his whole life so much as heard of the Day of Judgement; until by chance he beheld a Picture, in which were represented the pains of the damned, at which he was much amazed, and not knowing what it was, was informed of it by a Matron present, which he apprehended so deeply, that he fell half dead upon the ground, not being able to breath for fear and terror: after coming to himself, he demanded what he should do to avoid that miserable condition; it was answered him by the same Matron, that he should fast, pray, and abstain from flesh, which he immediately put in execution; And though many of his house and kindred endeavoured to divert and dissuade him, yet the holy fear of God, and the dread of eternal condemnation, which he might incur, remained so fixed in his memory, that nothing could withdraw him from his rigorous penance and holy resolution, until becoming a Monk he continued with much fruit and profit. Let us therefore whiles we live ever preserve in our memory this day of terror, that we may hereafter enjoy security for the whole eternity of God.     

THE THIRD BOOK OF THE DIFFERENCE BETWIXT THE TEMPORAL and ETERNAL.  

CAP. I.  
The mutability of things temporal makes them worthy of contempt.  
HItherto we have spoken of the shortness of time, and consequently of all things temporal, and of the end wherein they are to conclude. Nothing is exempted from death, and therefore not only humane life, but all things which follow time, and even time itself at last must die. Wherefore Hesichius, 
Damas'. in Par. l. 1.  as he is translated by St. John Damascen, saith, That the splendour of this world is but as withered leaves, bubbles of water, smoke, stubble, a shadow, and dust driven by the wind: all things that are of earth being to end in earth. But this is not all; for besides the certainty of end, they are infected with another mischief, which renders them much more contemptible than that, which is their instability, and continual changes, whereunto they are subject even whilst they are. For as time itself is in a perpetual succession and mutation, as being the brother and inseparable companion of Motion, so it fixes this ill condition unto most of those things which pass along in it, the which not only have an end, and that a short one, but even during that shortness of time, which they last, have a thousand changes, and before their end many ends, and before their death many deaths, each particular change, which our life suffers, being the death of some estate or part of if. For as death is the total change of life, so every change is the death of Come part. Sickness is the death of health, sleeping of waking, sorrow of joy, impatience of quiet, youth of infancy, and age of youth. The same condition hath the universal world and all things in it; for which cause they deserve so much contempt, that Marcus Aurelius the Emperor wondered that there could be found a man so senseless, 
Aur. Anton. l. 6. de vita sua.  as to value them; and therefore speaks in this manner. Of that very thing, which is now in doing, some part is already vanished: changes and alterations continually innovate the world, as that immense space of time by a perpetual flux renews itself. Who therefore shall esteem those things which never subsist, but pass along in this headlong and precipitate river of time, is as he who sets his affection upon some little bird, which passes along in the air, and is no more seen. Thus much from this Philosopher. This very cause of the little value of things temporal proceeding from their perpetual changes, together with the end whereunto they are subject, is, as St. Gregory notes, signified unto us by that Woman in the Apocalypse, 
Greg. l. 34. moral.  who had the Moon under her feet, and her head adorned with twelve Stars. Certainly the Moon, as well as the Stars, might have been placed in her Diadem: but it was trod under foot by reason of the continual changes and alterations which it suffers, whereby it becomes a figure of things temporal, which change not only every Month, but every day; the same day being, as Euripides says, now a Mother, than a Stepmother. The same was also signified by the Angel, 
Apoc. 10.  who crowned with a Rainbow descended from heaven to proclaim that all time was to end; with his right foot, which presses and treads more firmly, he stood upon the Sea, which by reason of its great unquietness is also a figure of the instability of this World. And therefore with much reason did the Angel, who had taught us by his voice, that all time and temporal things were to have an end, show us also by this sign, that for their instability and inconstancy they were even before their end to be trodden under foot and despised. But more lively is the same expressed by the same St. John, 
Apoc. 15. Ribera & Cornel.  when he beheld the Saints standing upon the Sea, to note that whilst they lived they contemned and trampled under foot the transitory and fading things of this World; and to declare it more fully he says, the Sea was of glass, than which nothing is more frail, and although hard yet brittle.  
Needs must the instability of things temporal be very great, and therefore most despicable, because it proceeds from so many causes. For as the Sea hath two several kinds of motion, the first natural, by which it riseth and falleth daily with continual ebbs and flows, so as the waves, when they are most quiet, are yet still moving and inconstant: the other violent, when the waters are raised and incensed by some furious tempest; in the same manner the things of this World are naturally of themselves fading and transitory, and without any exterior violence suffer a continual change; and run rolling on toward their end; but besides are also subject to other unthought of accidents, and extraordinary violences, which force nature out of her course, and raise huge storms in the Sea of this life, by which those things, which we most esteem, suffer shipwreck. For as the fairest flower withers of itself, yet is oftentimes before born away by the wind, or perishes by some storm of hail, The most exact beauties lose their lustre by age, but are often before blasted by some violent Fever, The most costly Garments wear out in time, if before not taken from us by the Thief, The strongest and most sumptuous Palaces decay with continuance, if before not ruined by Fire or Earthquakes: In like manner both their own nature and  violences deprive temporal things even of time itself, and trail them along in perpetual changes, leaving nothing stable. Let us cast our eyes upon those things which men judge most worthy to endure, 
Nazian. in Monod. Pli. l. 36. c. 8.  and made them to the end they should be eternal. How many changes and deaths have they suffered? St. Gregory Nazienzen places the City of Thebes in Egypt, as the chiefest of those wonders, which the world admired. 
Pompon Mela l. 1. c. 9  Most of the houses were of Alabaster Marble spotted with drops of gold, which made them appear most splendid and magnificent: Upon the walls were many pleasant Gardens, 
Sur. in Comm. an. 1517 Evag. l. 2. c. 1.  which they called Horti pencils, or hanging Gardens; and the Gates were no less than a hundred, out of which the Prince could draw forth numerous Armies without noise or knowledge of the people. Pomponius Mela writes, that out of every Port there issued 10000 armed men, 
Euseb. de praepar. Hieron. in Dan. c. 1. Polusl. 2. rerum Indic. c. 68  which in the whole came to be an Army of a million. Yet all this huge multitude could not secure it from a small Army conducted by a Youth, who, as St. Jerome writes, took and destroyed it. Marcus Polus writes that he passed by the City of Quinsay, which contained fourscore millions of souls; and Nicholas de Conti passing not many years after by the same way found the City wholly destroyed, 
Nicol. de Com. in itin. apud Ram. tom. 1.  and begun to be newly built after another form. But yet in greater than this was the City of Ninive, which according to the holy Scripture was of three day's journey; and it is now many ages since that we know not where it stood. 
Plin. l. 6. c. 26. Sol. c. 3.  No less stately, but perhaps better fortified was the City of Babylon: and that, which was the Imperial City of the World, became a Desert, and a Habitation of Harpies, Onocentaurs, Satyrs, Monsters, and Devils, as was foretold by the Prophets: and the walls which were 200 foot in height, and 50 in breadth could not defend it from time. And yet the holy Scripture describes Ecbatana the chief City of Media to be more strong than that. It was built by Arphaxad, King of the Medes, of square stone: the Walls contained seventy cubits in breadth, thirty cubits in height, and the Towers, which encompassed it, were each in height a hundred cubits; and yet for all this could not the Median Empire, having such a head, escape from rendering itself unto the Assyrians. And the same Monarch, who built it, and made the World to tremble under him, came to lose it and himself, and having conquered many Nations, became at last conquered and a Slave unto his enemies.  
It is not much that Cities have suffered so many changes, since Monarchies and Empires have done the same: and so often hath the World changed her face, as she hath changed her Monarch and Master. He who had seen the World as it was in the time of the Persians, would not have known it as it was in the time of the Assyrians; and he who knew it in the time of the Persians, would not have judged it for the same when the Greeks were Masters. After in the time of the Romans it appeared with a face not known before: and he who knew it then would not know it now; and some years hence it will put on another form, being in nothing more like itself than in its perpetual changes and alterations; for which cause it hath been ever worthy of scorn and contempt, and more now than ever, 
Cyp. in Epist. ad Demet.  since it becomes every day worse, and grows old, and decays with age, as St, Cyprian notes in those words: Thou art to know that the World is already grown old, and doth not remain in that strength and vigour which it had at first. This the World itself tells us, and the daily declining of it into worse needs no other testimony. The Winter wants the usual rains to fertilise the earth; the Summer the accustomed heat to ripen the corn; the Autumn is not loaden as heretofore with fruits, nor the Spring glads us with the delight and pleasure of its sweet temperature; out of the hollowed Mountains are drawn less pieces of marble; and the exhausted Mines yield less quantities of gold and silver. The Labourer is wanting in the Fields, the Mariners in the Seas, the Soldier in the Tents, Innocency in the Market-places, Justice in the Tribunals, Sincerity in Friendship, Skill in Arts, and Discipline in Manners. Necessary it is, that that should decay, which thus daily sinks into itself, and approaches towards an end. Immediately he adds; This is the doom of the World, This the ordinance of God; all that is born must die; all that increases must grow old, the strong become feeble, the great diminish, and when diminished perish. Anciently our lives extended beyond 800 or 900 years: now few arrive unto an hundred. We see boys grown grey, and our age ends not in decrepit years, but then gins: and in our very birth we draw near our ends, and he who is now born, with the age of the World degenerates. Let no man therefore marvel that the parts of the World decay, since the whole goes to ruin. Neither is the World only grown worse in the natural frame of it, but is also much defaced in the moral; the manners of men have altered it more, than the violences and encounters of the Elements. The Empire of the Assyrians much corrupted the primitive simplicity and innocence of it; and what they wanted was effected by the Persians; and wherein they failed, by the Greeks; and wherein they, by the Romans; and wherein they, is abundantly made up by us; For the pride of Monarches is the ruin and destruction of good manners. And therefore unto the four Monarchies may be fitly applied that which was foretold by the Prophet Joel, 
Joel. 1.  What was left by the Eruke was eaten by the Locust, what was lest by the Locust was eaten by the Bruke, and what was left by the Bruke was devoured by the Blast.  

§. 2.  
More are the causes of alterations in the World than in the Ocean. For besides the condition of humane things, which as well intrinsically and of their own nature, as by the external violences which they suffer, are subject to perish, the very spirit and humour of man being fickle and inconstant is the occasion of great changes. Not without grea● proportion did the Holy Ghost say, That the fool changed like the Moon, which is not only mutable in figure but in colour. The natural Philosophers observe three colours in the Moon, pale, red, and white; the first foreshews rain, the second wind, and the third cheers up with hopes of fair weather. In the same, manner is the heart of man changed by three most violent affections represented by those three colours. That of pale the colour of gold, coveting riches more frail and slippery than waters; That of red the colour of purple, gaping after the wind of vain honours; The last of white the colour of mirth and jollity, running after the gusts and pleasures of this life. With these three affections Man is in perpetual change and motion; and as there are some Plants which follow the course of the Moon, still turning and moving according to her course, so these alterations in humane affections draw after them, and are the cause of these great changes and revolutions, which happen in the World. How many Kingdoms were overthrown by the covetousness of Cyrus? The ambition of Alexander did not only destroy a great part of the World, but made it put on a clear other face than it had before. What part of Troy was left standing by the lascivious love of Paris, who was not only the ruin of Greece, but set on fire his own Country? That which time spares is often snatched away by the covetousness of the Thief: and how many lives are cut off by revenge, before they arrive unto old age? There is no doubt but humane affections are those fierce winds which trouble the Sea of this World: and as the Ocean ebbs and flows according to the course of the Moon, so the things of this life conform their motions unto humane passions. There is no stability in any thing, and least in man, who is not only changeable in himself, but changes all things besides.  
So unstable and variable is man, that David unto some of his Psalms gives these words for a Title; 
Psal. 68  For those who shall change; and St. Basil explicating the same Title, saith, It was meant of man, whose life is a perpetual change; unto which is conformable the translation of Aquila, who instead of those words renders it, Pro foliis, For the leaves: because man is moved by every wind as the leaves of a tree. This mutability is very apparent in the Passion of Christ our Redeemer, which is the subject of the 78. Psalm, which beareth this Title. They of Jerusalem having received him with greater honour than they ever gave to man, within four days after treated, him with the greatest infamy and villainy that was possible to be expressed by Devils. There is no trust in the heart of man; now it loves, now it abhors, now it desires, now fears, now esteems, now despises. Who is not amazed at the change of St. Peter, who after so many promises and resolutions to die for his Master, within a few hours swore as many false oaths, that he knew him not? What shall become of the Reed and Bulrush, when the Oak and Cedar totters. Neither is the change of Amnon a little to be wondered at, who loving Thamar with that violence of passion, that he fell sick for her, immediately mediately after abhorred her so much, that he barbarously turned her out of his chamber. But I know nothing that can more evidently set forth the mutability of humane affections, than that memorable accident which happened in Ephesus. 
Petron. Arbit. tract. de leg. conmib. leg. non. num. 97.  There lived in that City a Matron of an honest repute and conversation, whose Husband dying left her the most disconsolate and sad Widow that ever was heard of; all was lamentations, tearing and disfiguring her face and breasts with her nails: and not content with the usual Ceremonies of Widows of those times, she enclosed herself with his dead Body in the Sepulchre, which anciently was a Vault in the fields, capacious and prepared for that use; there she resolved to famish herself, and follow him into the next world: and had already for four days abstained from all manner of sustenance. It happened that near that place a certain Malefactor was executed, and lest his kindred should by night steal away his Body and give it burial, a Soldier was appointed to watch it, who being weary, and remembering that not far off the Widow was enclosed in the Sepulchre, resolved for a time to quit his charge, and try what entertainment he could find with her. Whereupon carrying his supper along with him he entered the Vault, and at first had much ado to persuade the grieved Widow to take part with him, to forsake her desperate resolution of famishing, and be content to live; but a while after having prevailed in this, and passing further with the same oratory he persuaded her, who had not denied to share with him in his supper, to afford him the fruition of her person, which she likewise did. In the mean time whilst the Soldier transported with his pleasure forgot his duty, the friends of the executed Malefactor stole away the Body: which being perceived by the Soldier, who now satiate with his dalliance was returned unto his guard, and knowing his offence to be no less than capital, he repairs with great fear and amazement unto his Widow, and acquaints her with the mischance, who was not slow in providing a remedy: but taking the dead body of her Husband, which had cost her so many tears, advised him to hang it upon the Gallows to supply the room of the Malefactor. Such is the inconstancy of humane hearts, more variable than seems possible, which changing in themselves draw within their compass the rest of the hangs of this World.  
Philo considering and admiring so great vanity and change, 
Philo. l. de Jos.  speaks after this manner. Perhaps those things which concern the Body are they not dreams? perhaps this momentary beauty does it not whither even before it flourish? our health is uncertain, exposed to so many infirmities: a thousand griefs happening by divers occasions abate our strength and forces: the quickness and vigour of our senses are corrupted by vicious humours. Who then can be ignorant of the baseness of exterior things? One day often makes an end of great riches: many Personages of great honour and esteem changing their fortune become infamous: great Empires and Kingdoms have in a short time been ruined. Of this Dionysius is a sufficient witness, who thrust from his Throne from a King of Sicily became a Schoolmaster in Gorinth, and taught boys. The like happened unto Croesus the most rich King of Lydia, who being in hope to overthrow the Persians, not only lost his own Kingdom, but fell into the power of his enemies, and failed little of being burnt alive. Particular persons are not only witnesses that all humane things are dreams, but Cities, Nations, Kingdoms, Greeks and Barbarians, the Isles, and those who inhabit the Continent of Europe, Asia, the East, and West, nothing remains like unto itself. Certainly, as Philo says, the instability of humane things makes them appear not only a dream, but as a dream of a shadow rather than of any thing solid and consistent. 
Hom. de poenit.  Let us hear also what St. chrysostom says, and counsels us concerning the same matter. All things present (saith he) are more frail and weak than the webs of spiders, and more deceitful than dreams: for as well the goods as evils have their end. Since therefore we esteem things present but as a dream, and we ourselves to be but as in a Inn, from whence we are suddenly to departed, let us take care for our journey, and furnish ourselves with provision, and a Viaticum for eternity; let us  ourselves with such garments, as we may carry along with us. For as no man can lay hold on his Shadow, so no man retains things humane, which partly in death, and partly before death fly from us, and run more swiftly than a rapid river. To the contrary are those things which are to come, which neither suffer age, nor change, nor are subject to revolutions, but perpetually flourish and persevere in a continued felicity. Take heed then of admiring those riches which remain not with their Masters, but change in every instant, and leap from one to another, and from this to that. It behoves thee to despise all those things, and to esteem them as nothing. Let it suffice to hear what the Apostle says; The things that are seen are temporal, but those which are not seen are eternal. Things humane disappear more suddenly than a shadow.    

CAP. II.  
How great and desperate soever our Temporal evils are, yet hope may make them tolerable.  
FRom this inconstancy of humane things we may extract a constancy for ourselves: First by despising things so frail and transitory, which, as we have already said, is a sufficient ground for their contempt; Secondly by a resolute hope and expectation of an end or change in our adversity and afflictions, since nothing here below is constant, but all mutable and unstable: and as things sometimes change from good to evil, so they may also from evil unto good. And as great prosperity hath often been the occasion of greater misery, so we may hope our greatest misfortunes may produce a greater happiness. Wherefore as in eternal evils, because immutable, we want the hope of a happy condition, so in temporal evils, how great soever, we ought not to despair, which we daily see confirmed with most unexpected successes. Let us therefore only fear eternal evils, which are not capable of remedy, and let us not despair and afflict ourselves for the temporal, which hath it, and imports little whether it have it or no. This is not ill expressed by that which happened unto the Roman Appius, 
Fulgos. l. 6.  who being proscribed and condemned to banishment, became by the treachery of his Slaves and Servants in danger of his life, who out of covetousness to possess themselves of the goods and treasure, which he carried along with him, cast him forth into a small Shallop, and sailed away with the Ship. But from this misfortune sprung his deliverance: For not long after the Ship sunk, in which his Slaves were drowned, and he himself (who had perished if he had been with them) escaped with this little loss, and came safe into Sicily. Aristomenes being taken by his enemies, and cast into an obscure Dungeon, was there at least by famine and unwholesomeness of the place to end his days; but in the midst of despair an unexpected accident gave him hope of delivery. A Fox by chance passing through a little hole under ground entered into the Dungeon, where he had made his Den, which being espied by Aristomenes, he laid fast hold on him with one hand, and with the other enlarged the passage, and voiding the lose earth as he went, followed his guide, who at last safely conducted him into the open field, from whence he escaped in safety, when his enemies thought he had been dead. There is no condition of life so miserable wherein we ought to despair, nay wherein we may not hope of bettering our fortunes. To how many hath a seeming unlucky accident been the occasion of great preferment, and a disgrace of honours? Diogenes his being condemned for false money, and held for an infamous person, was the occasion of his receiving respect and honour from Princes, 
Plin. l. 7. c. 50.  ' Alexander the Master of the World coming to visit him. Phalareus being wounded in his breast by his enemies was cured of an Imposthume held desperate by the Physicians. 
Gal. l. de Sim. ca 11.  Galen writes of a Leper, who was cured by drinking a little wine, wherein a Viper was by chance drowned, which the Reapers not being willing to drink themselves, gave him out of compassion thinking to kill him quickly, and rid him out of those grievous pains which he endured; but that which they thought would be his death, became his life: for the drinking of the wine caused the scales and scurf of his flesh to fall, and restored him to his health. 
Benive. c. 15.  Benivenius testifies, that he knew a Boy that was lame of both feet, in such sort that he could not go without Crutches; but being struck with the plague, and recovering his health he remained sound of his feet, and without lameness. The same Author writes of a certain Architect, who had one leg shorter than the other, but falling from an high Tower he remained one leg as long as the other. Alexander Benedictus rehearseth, 
Alexan. Benedi. lib. 3.  That he knew a blind man, who being wounded grievously in the head, recovered his sight. Rondelejus certifies, that a mad woman, having her head broken returned to her wits. Plutarch writes of one Promeheus, who had an ugly humour and swelling in his face, who having spent much money upon Surgeons and Physicians to little purpose, was by a wound, which his Enemy by chance gave him in the same place, perfectly cured, the hurt leaving no blemish or deformity behind it. The injuries done to Joseph by his brothers promoted him to the greatest honours of the Egyptian Empire. The heap of miseries, wherein holy Job was involved, concluded in a double fortune and felicity. Jacob flying from his Country with no more wealth than a walking staff returned rich and prosperous with a numerous Family.  
There is no drooping for unfortunate successes, since they often prove the beginning of great felicities; and oftentimes we may rejoice for those evils, for which we have shed tears. But that we may more clearly perceive the mutability of things, and the hope we may entertain (even in the depth of our calamities) of a better condition, I shall here recount the Story of Marcus and Barbula two Roman Gentlemen. 
Fulgosius l. 6.  Marcus who was Praetor followed the Party of Brutus, and being overthrown with his General in the Philippian fields, and taken Prisoner feigned himself to be of base condition, and so was bought by Barbula for a Slave; who perceiving in him, notwithstanding his outward appearance, a deep judgement, great discretion, and a noble spirit, began to suspect him to be something else than what his seemed; and calling him aside persuaded him to reveal who he was, assuring him that although he were one of the Rebels, he would not fail to procure his pardon. Marcus smiling assured him he was no such man: and Barbula to let him see how bootless it was to conceal who he was, told him he was resolved to carry him along with him to Rome, where he was certain to be discovered. Marcus answered, With all his heart: not doubting but the great change of his habit and condition would free him from the knowledge of any; but he found himself deceived; for he was no sooner arrived at Rome, but waiting upon his Master at the door of one of the Cousuls, he was known by a Roman Citizen, who immediately discovered him in secret to his Patron. Barbul●t handled the matter so discreetly, that without acquainting his counterfeit Slave he went to Agrippa, by whose means he obtained a pardon from Augusts, who in short time became so well satisfied of Marcus, that he received him amongst his most private friends. Not long after Barbula, following the side of Mark Anthony, was taken in the Actiacan War, and unknown was likewise bought by Marcus amongst other Slaves. But so soon as it came to his knowledge that he was his ancient Master, he repaired unto Augustus, begged his pardon, and restored him unto his liberty: returning in the same manner the favour which he had received. Who sees not here those secret pipes by which blessings are derived, and fortune changed? Marcus enjoyed the dignity of a Praetor, was suddenly after a Slave, than a Friend of Caesar's, and a redeemer of his redeemer, arriving at higher preferments by his slavery and captivity, than by his birth and former dignity. Whilst life lasts there is no mishap without hope: and affliction, although we look upon things within their own limits and natural disposition, come often home loaden with prosperities. But if we look upon them with that divine hope, which we ought to have, there is no evil from whence we may not derive a good. To what greater straits can one be brought than to be drawn forth to execution, and held guilty by the consent of all, as Susanna was? but in the very way to justice God raised her up a salvation both of life and honour, converting her unjust infamy into a great esteem and admiration of her virtue. What remedy for Daniel, when he was thrown into a Cave amongst hungry Lions? but where he expected to be devoured by wild beasts, he found comfort. The three Children, who were cast into the fiery Furnace in Babylon, where there was nothing to be hoped for but death, found refreshment, life, and content. David, when he was compassed in by the Soldiers of Saul, despaired of safety, yet escaped the danger. There is no evil in this life, which even with the hopes of this life may not be assuaged: but with the hopes of the other who will not be comforted? Let us  only fear eternal evils, which have neither comfort, hope, nor possibility of amendment.   

CAP. III.  
We ought to consider what we may come to be.  
BUt that we may as little presume upon things favourable and successful, as despair when they are averse and contrary, this excellent instruction may be drawn from their inconstancy, which is, Not to confide at all in humane: prosperity: For neither Kingdom, Empire, Papacy, nor any greatness whatsoever can secure their Owners from ruin and misfortunes; and everyone ought with holy Job to consider What he may come to be. There is no fortune so high, unto which may not succeed a condition as low and disastrous. Let the great and rich man consider that all his wealth and power may fail, and he be driven to beg an alms. Let the King consider he may become a Mechanic Trades-man. Let the Emperor consider that even in his own Court he may be dragged forth to justice, and have dirt fling in his face, and be publicly executed. Let the Pope's confider that some of them have been forced to kiss the feet of other Popes. These things seem incredible, and mortals are hardly drawn to believe them. But let no man wonder at the success of any, since not only Kings, Emperors, and Popes have been condemned, but Saints, and such, who by their holiness have wrought miracles, have fallen and been danmed in hell fire! Let us all therefore preserve ourselves in humility▪ let us not confide in prosperity, nor presume upon our virtues though never so perfect, since every man is subject to fall into those misfortunes he little thinks of.  
Who would imagine that so opprobrious affronts could befall a Roman Emperor as happened to Andronicus? whose history I shall here relate to confirm that, which, if grave Authors had not reported, would seem incredible. 
An. 1285. Nicetas Chroniat. in annal. lib. 2.  Nicetas writes, and others bear him witness, That this Emperor in the third year of his reign was laid hold upon by his own Vassals; a strong chain and collar of iron, as if he had been some Mastive dog, fastened about his neck: his hands manacled, and his feet fettered with heavy shackles: the most ordinary sort of people taunting him with bitter scoffs buffeted him upon the face, punched him upon the body, plucked his beard from his chin, drew him up and down by the hair of his head, knocked out his teeth, and for his greater affront scourged him on those parts, where they use to whip children. After which they brought him into the public Marketplace, that all that would might abuse him: and even women buffeted him; which done they cut off his right hand, hurried him into prison, and fling him into the common-hole, where the most notorious Thiefs and Murderers were lodged, leaving him nothing to feed on, or so much as any to give him a jar of water. From thence some few days after they drew him forth, plucked out one of his eyes, mounted him naked (saving a little short cloak which covered nothing almost of his body) upon a lean scabbed Camel, his face backward, holding the tail in his hand instead of a Sceptre, and a halter in place of a Diadem. In this equipage they brought him again into the Marketplace, where the injuries, scorns, and ignominies put upon him by the rascal multitude are not imaginable. Some cast onions and rotten fruit at him, others pricked him in the sides with spits, others stuffed his nostrils with filth and dung, others squeezed upon his head and face sponges filled with urine and excrements; some fling stones and dirt at him, and called him by most opprobrious names; and there wanted not an impudent baggage, who running into the Kitchen fetched a pot of scalding water and threw in his face. There was no Tapster, Cobbler, Tinker, or base Tradesman, which found not out some way or other to affront him. At last they hung him by the heels betwixt two pillars, and there left him to die. But than did not his own Courtiers and household Servants pardon him; one thrust his sword up to the hilts in his bowels: two others, to prove which had the sharpest sword, tried them in his flesh. At last the miserable Emperor (although most happy if he were saved) brought with much ado that arm, which had lost the hand and yet ran with blood, to moisten his dry mouth, and so expired. In this manner ended the Monarch of the East: but not yet his ignominy; for during three days after they suffered his dead body to hang upon the Gibbet, which was at last taken down more to free the living from horror, than for compassion to the dead, whom they buried like a mad dog. Let every one in this glass behold and consider what the things of this life are. Let him compare Andronicus with Andronicus, Andronicus Emperor and Augustus with Andronicus a Prisoner and publicly executed; behold him first clothed in Purple, adored by Nations, commanding the East, his temples encircled with a Royal Diadem, the Imperial Sceptre in his hands, and his very shoes studied with Oriental Unions; Then look upon him insulted over by the basest of his people, buffeted by women, and pelted with dirt and stones in his Imperial City. Who would believe that he, whom the people thronged to look upon as upon some God when he passed through the Streets of Constantinople in his Royal Chariot, covered with plates of burnished gold, guarded with excellent Captains, and waited on by the Princes of his Empire, should by those very same persons, who so lately had taken their oaths of loyalty, and sworn to defend him, be so traitorously and barbarously handled? Finally, he who had commanded justice to pass upon so many, should himself come to be justized with greater infamy than any of them? who could imagine that one subject should be so suddenly capable of such different extremes, and that so great glory should conclude in so much ignominy? This is enough to make us contemn all temporal goods and humane felicity, which not only passes away with time, but often changes into greater misfortunes. What esteem can that merit which stands exposed to so much misery: which is by so much more sensible to the sufferer, by how much it was less expected? To this may be added another consideration of no small profit, That if this Emperor passed to his salvation through so many affronts and cruel torments, what hurt did they do him? what imports it that he was so unhappy in this life, if he were happy in the other? certainly he gave sufficient hopes of his contrition; for in all that lamentable and never to be paralleled Tragedy no sign of impatience ever appeared in him, neither spoke he other words than these, Lord have mercy on me; and when they abused and wounded him with so much cruelty, all he said was this, Why do ye break this bruised Reed? Certainly, if he knew how to benefit himself (as it seems he did) by his misery, he was more happy in it, than in his Empire. The eternal is that which imports. As for the glory of his Empire, and the misery of his ignominy, they are now past.  
A greater Emperor was Vitellius than he, 
Fulgos. l. 6.  since not only the East, but West acknowledged him for the Lord and Monarch of the whole World. The riches he enjoyed were beyond estimation, and gold abounded with him, as stones of the Streets with others. In Rome he was acknowledged Augustus, and saluted with so glorious titles, that he seemed to be all he could desire less than a God. But wherein ended all this Majesty, but in the greatest infamy that can be imagined? for having tied a rope about his neck, and his hands behind him, torn his garments from his back, and stuck a dagger under his chin, they haled him ignominiously up and down the Streets of Rome, cast filth in his face, and reviled him with a thousand injurious speeches, and at last killed him in the Marketplace, and threw him down the Gemonieses, where they used to fling the bodies of such offenders as were not lawfully to be buried. A strange case, to what end some men are born, such care, trouble and circumspection in bringing on a life to conclude in so disastrous a death. He who should know the ends of Andronicus and Vitellius, and should behold their birth, breeding, studies, pretences, and recreations, should see them clad in silk and gold, and acknowledged Emperors, Would he say in his heart, that so much ado was necessary for such an end? Folly is all humane greatness, since at last it must end, and perhaps in so disastrous a conclusion. With reason did Pachimeras say; It was safer to trust to a shadow, than to humane happiness. Who could imagine that the Emperor Valerianus, 
Vide Platinam. Baro. Fulgos.  whom the King of Persia taking prisoner kept enclosed in a Cage like some wild beast, used him as a footstool when he got on horseback, and after flayed his Soldiers and salted them, as if they had been bacon, could possibly come to such an end? Compare here the different conditions that may happen to a Roman Emperor: Behold Valerianus mounted upon a brave Courser, trapped with Gold, clad in Purple, crowned with the Imperial Diadem, adored by Nations, and commanding over Kingdoms: and after see the same man enclosed like a beast, and trodden under the foot of a barbarous King. Such contrary fortunes happen in humane life. Let us not therefore trust in it.  

§ 2.  
Yet less imaginable seems that which happened unto Pope John the XXIII. when after four years' possession of the Papacy, many Princes of Europe having during that time in token of obedience kissed his feet, he himself came to kiss the feet of another Pope; and having in his Pontificat created many Cardinals, took it at last as a singular favour to be made one himself. This seems incredible; but it is a most true history. The mutability of humane things produces so strange effects, that our imagination dares not feign them. Who would think that the chief Bishop should be made a Captive, as this was in the Council of Constance assembled for the pacification of the Schism then reigning in the Church? There he was deprived of his dignity, and himself confirmed his own deposition, and suffered in person great misery, want, and affliction; from whence he made an eseape, and fled from place to place, until at length he became so well advised as to put himself into the hands of Martin the Fifth, elected after his deposition, who had many Cardinals then about him created by this John, who beheld him, that had made them, deprived of all dignities, humbly ask pardon of the new Pope, whom he acknowledged for such., and esteemed it a great favour to receive his Hat anew. Thus far can the instability of Temporal goods arrive. Who could imagine that which happened unto the Emperor Zeno, who after he had possessed the Empire many years, cockered in all the blandishments of so high a fortune, was at last constrained through famine to eat his , and feed upon the flesh of his own arms? This Emperor being in a trance was given out to be dead, and so buried in a Vault, but returning afterwards unto himself he cried out aloud; named those of his Guard and his other Servants, who, though they heard him, would not help him. There he remained interred alive, eating his own flesh, as witnesses Cedrenus. 
Cedrens in Com.  Who could believe such a misfortune? but the misery, wherein humane happiness often terminates, is not to be conceived.  
The glory and riches of Belisarius were greater than of many Kings. 
Vid. Petr. Mex. in vita Justini. Crinit. et Volater.  The World was amazed at his valour and courage: he overcame the Goths in many battles, and took their King prisoner: he made an end of the Vandals, and triumphed over there captive King Gilismer: he triumphed also in the East over the Persians. His wealth was so great, that in one hours' space he gained all that the Vandals had scraped together in fourscore years. Who could imagine that this so rich and glorious Captain should become a blind Beggar, and beg an alms in the Church of St. Sophia, and other public places? Dionysius the second possessed a wealthy Kingdom in Sicily. 
Egn. l. 6. c. 10. Portan. l. 2. c. 8. de Fort. domest.  Who would thing that from a King he should be necessitated to become a Schoolmaster? who would not wonder at the cozenage of the World, that should first see him in his Royal Palace with a Sceptre in his hand, compassed about with his Servants, and the Great ones of his Kingdom, and should after behold him in his School managing a Rod in the midst of a number of boys? What shall I say of King Adonibezee, 
Jud. 1.  who after the conquest of seaventy Kings died a Slave, and for his greater infamy, had the extremities of his hands and feet cut off? Spain afforded Queen Goswinda, 
Max. an. 589.  beloved and esteemed by King Leovigildus her Husband, afterward publicly executed and tormented in the Marketplace of Toledo. Of no less marvel is that which happened unto the Empress Maria, Wife unto Otho the third, burnt by order of justice; which being a story of memory, I shall relate it out of Godfridus Viterbiensis. 
Vid. Chr. Coriol. an. 668,  These two Princes passing by Modena, the Empress became desperately enamoured of a young Count, much a Gentleman, and excellently accomplished in the lineaments of his body, but much more in the perfections of his mind, in so much as he neglected and slighted the violent addresses and solicitations of this fond Princess; who perceiving herself mocked, full of choler and madness did, as joseph's Mistress, cry out a Rape, and accused the innocent Count to the too credulous Emperor, that he would have forced her: who without much search into the business belived it, and caused him to be beheaded; which as soon as it came to the knowledge of his Countess, a Lady of an heroic and confident spirit, and fully satisfied of the goodness and innocency of her Husband, at such time as the Emperor gave audience, she entered into the presence, and flinging down the head of her Husband before him accused him as an unjust Judge, and demanded justice of him against himself; and for proof of what she said, offered herself to the then usual trial of burning iron: which being accepted, and the heated Iron put into her hands, she handled it as if it had been a Nosegay of flowers: which being seen by the Emperor, he confessed himself guilty; but the Countess not so satisfied cried out, that since he was faulty he ought to die, for that he had caused to be executed an innocent person; neither could she be contented, until the sentence was pronounced against the Empress (who was the Author of that mischief) to be burnt: which was accordingly executed upon this great princess, Wife to so potent an Emperor, and Daughter of the King of Arragon; for neither Crowns nor Sceptres secure us from the inconstancy of humane changes. Well was it said by St. Gregory Nazianzen, that we may better trust unto the wind, or to letters written upon water, than unto humane felicity,   

§ 3.  
What we have hitherto recounted are changes, not falls. That which we are to fear is a fall from sanctity and virtue, and this is properly to fall, when we descend from the state of grace to that of sin. The mutations of fortune are but exchanges of one condition for another. No man can fall when he is at lowest; and the lowest and basest of all things is humane felicity, which when it quits us, we fall not, but change it, and perhaps for the better. The true falls are those which are spiritual; and it may with reason amaze us, to see that on this part also we are exposed to uncertainties. But this may be our comfort, that temporal changes are not in our hands, but spiritual are. Our wealth, whether we will or no, may be taken from us, but grace unless by our own fault cannot. We may be bereft of honours against our will, but not of virtue except we consent. Corporal goods may perish, be stolen, and lost a thousand manner of ways: but spiritual goods can only be forsaken, and are then only lost, when we leave them by sin. This may make us tremble, that they are lost because we will lose them, and not being mutable in themselves they change because we are mutable. That which hath happened in this kind is most lamentable. St. Peter Damian writes that he knew a Monk in the City of Benevento, named Madelmo, 
Petr. Dami. l. 1. c. 10.  who arrived at so great sanctity of life, that being upon a holy Saturday to fill a dozen of Lamps, and oil failing for the lust, he with great faith filled it with water, and lighting it, it burned as the rest. Many other miracles he wrought in our Lord, for which he was in great esteem both of the Prince and Citizens. But wherein ended this miraculous and venerable man? a strange change. God withdrawing his holy hand from him, he fell into such dishonesty of life, that he was taken and publicly whipped, and his head for his greater ignominy shaved like a Slave. A lamentable tragedy is the life of man, wherein we behold so contrary extremes. 
Ibidem.  The same St. Peter Damian writes, that he knew in the same City a Priest of so great sanctity, that every day, when he celebrated Mass, the Prince of Benevento beheld an Angel descend from heaven, who took the Divine Mysteries from his hands to offer them unto the Lord. Yet this man so favoured from above fell into the like vice, that all might fear, and none be assured in any state whatsoever.  
S. John Climacus relates the story of that young man, 
Clim. gr. 15.  of whom we read in the Lives of the Fathers, who mounted unto so high a degree of virtue, that he commanded the wild Asses, and compelled them to serve the Monks of the Monastery; whom blessed St. Anthony compared to a Ship laden with rich Merchandise, sailing in the midst of the Ocean, whose end was uncertain. Afterwards this so fervent youth fell most miserably, and bewailing his sin, said unto some of the Monks who passed by, Speak unto the old man (that is St. Anthony) that he pray unto God, that he would grant me yet ten days of repentance. The holy man hearing this toar the hair from his head, and said, A great Pillar of the Church if fallen: and five days after the Monk died, in so much as he who heretofore commanded the wild beasts of the Wilderness, became a scorn to the Devils, and he who preserved himself by bread from heaven, was afterward deprived of his spiritual sustenance. 
Heracl. in Parad.  Lamentable also is the accident related by Heraclides of Hieron Alexandrinus, who having flourished many years in great virtue and fame of sanctity, 
Andr. Ebor. Ex. mem. t. 2. de mor. & for. mut.  left off all, and became a haunter of public Stews. In the same manner Ptolomee the Egyptian having passed fifteen years in the Desert in continual prayer, sustaining himself only with bread, and the dew which fell from heaven, came to leave all, and lead a most scandalous life. If we look into the holy Scriptures, we shall find greater changes, and more lamentable falls. Who would think that Saul chosen of God for very good, of an humble and patiented spirit, should end in a Luciferian pride, and in a mortal hatred against the best man in Israel? Who would think that a man so wise, and so religious, as Solomon, should in his latter times be seduced by women, and erect Temples unto false Gods? Finally, who would imagine that an Apostle of Christ should die in despair and hang himself? What man can then presume so much of himself, that he needs not stand in fear of what he may be?    

CAP. IU.  
The change of humane things shows clearly their vanity, and how worthy they are to be contemned.  
THis inconstancy and change of things serve as a testimony of their vanity. Witness those who have had the largest experience of humane greatness and felicity. Gilimer King of the Vandals was of great power, wealth and valour, but overcome by Belisarius, and deprived of his Kingdom, was led in triumph through the Streets of Constantinople. When he approached the place, where Justinian the Emperor was seated in a Throne of incomparable Majesty, clothed in his Imperial Robes, and compassed with the great Princes of his Empire, the Captive King beholding him in so great glory, and himself a Slave, abandoned of the whole world, neither wept nor complained, nor shown the least sign of sorrow or resentment, 
Procop. li. 2. de bello Vandalorum.  but only uttered that most true sentence of the Wiseman, Vanity of vanities, and all is vanity. He who knew this, no marvel though in so great a misfortune he had dry eyes. For if he knew that all humane greatness was vanity, wherefore should he grieve for that which was nothing? That is not worthy of grief, which deserves not love. Things so mutable are those below, that as they merit not our affections when we enjoy them, so they ought not to vex and afflict us when we lose them. This apprehension was the cause of the great equality of mind, which this Prince expressed in all his actions, who was so far from showing any grief in the loss of his Kingdom and fortunes, that he rather seemed to laugh and rejoice; and therefore when he was overthrown in battle, and forced to fly into Numidia, where he fortified himself in one of the Mountains, the Enemy besieging and streightning him with want of victuals, he sent to the Captain, who commanded in chief, to demand of him Bread, a Sponge, and a Cittern; Bread to sustain his life, which was now like to perish for want of food: a Sponge, to dry his eyes, for that having now entered into the consideration of the vanity of humane things, and ashamed at his grief for the loss of them, he was resolved to change his passions, and rather laugh than weep: for what being possessed afforded no security, the same being lost brought no prejudice; and to this end demanded a Cittern; for that having wiped his eyes from their fruitless tears, he was now resolved to change his complaints into songs, and his grief into content, which consists not so much in the abundance of a great fortune, as in the sufficiency of a moderate. And with reason might he take the Cittern; for if he well considered, he might rejoice even in his mishap, since his loss made him understand that deceit of the World, which his most ample Kingdom never could, and freed him not only from cares and troubles, but from sins, which in the prosperity of this life have a larger field, than in an adverse fortune. Possessed of this truth they took him prisoner, and brought him to the conquering Belisarius. The Captive King came with those expressions of joy and mirth, that the General seeing him laugh, whom he judged to have so great a cause of tears, thought his grief had distracted him, and that lie had lost his wits; but he never had them perfecter, since he laughed at human greatness, and now perceived how ridiculous a thing is that which we call felicity, and in his heart rightly esteemed it, as it is, a vanity of vanities.  
I believe the same judgement, which this King gave of the vanity of temporal things, would, if it had been asked, been given by the Emperor Andronicus when naked, and his head shaved like a Slave, he was infamously dragged thorough the Streets of Constantinople. What was then his Imperial Diadem? what his Throne and Majesty? what his Ornaments of gold and silver? All was vanity, and a vanity of vanities. Neither would this have been denied by Vitellius, when they threw dirt in his face, and haled him into the Marketplace to be executed. What were then the Spectacles of the Amphitheatre, and Games of the Circus, the Signiory of the World, but vanity of vanities, and universal vanity? The same would Croesus' have preached from the flames, the Tyrant Bajazet from his Cage, King Bolislaus from his Kitchen, and Dionysius from his School. If alive they would have said this upon the sight only of the instability of this life, what would they now say upon the experience of eternity, whereinto they are entered? Let us take the opinion of those Princes which are damned, what they now think of the Majesty, which they enjoyed in this life; Vanity they will say it was, a smoke, a dream, a shadow. And without doubt those Kings, which are now in heaven in possession of those eternal joys, will say the same, That all felicity here below, is poor, scarce and short, and vanity of vanities, and worse, if it have been an occasion of sin. But it is not needful to call witnesses from the other life, since the vanity of this is so evident, that he who shall set himself to consider the greatness of this World, shall perceive that by how much it is more glorious, by so much it is more vain. What greater Majesty than that of the Roman Empire? Let us call to mind what happened in that. Scarce was the election of a Roman Emperor known before they, who chose him, or some more subtle or powerful than they, had murdered him. An although they studied nothing more than to preserve themselves in the Imperial dignity, yet few there were that could effect it. Amongst nineteen or twenty Emperors, which passed betwixt Antoninus the Philosopher, and Claudius the second, not one escaped a violent death, besides many other Tyrants, who took the names of Emperors; as in Galienus his time thirty usurped that title, and murdered one another: in so much as he who called himself an Emperor, was almost certain to die a violent death; so as the greatest felicity of the world was tied to the greatest mishap. And it is to be wondered, that any (though almost forced) would accept the Diadem. But such is the folly of men, that having before their eyes so many lamentable examples they gape after those glories, which hardly last from morning until night. Some of them had scarce been saluted Emperors, when they were cut in pieces. Aurelianus was one of those who exhibited the most glorious triumph that ever Rome beheld, where were showed An infinite number of Captives from the three parts of the World, Many rare beasts, as Tigers, Lions, Ounces, Elephants, Dromidaries, A mighty quantity of Arms taken from the conquered Enemies, Three most sumptuous Chariots, one of the King of Palmerins, another of the Persians, and a third of the Goths, Two who called themselves Emperors, and the great Queen Cenobia adorned with most precious jewels, and rich pearls, and fettered in chains of gold. He himself entered in a triumphal Chariot taken from the King of Goths, drawn by Stags, immediately followed by the conquering Army richly armed, crowned with Laurel, and carrying Palms in their hands. Never Emperor arrived at such a height of glory. But how long lasted it? A short time after he was stabbed with poniards, having hardly time to take notice of his greatness, much less to enjoy it. By how many steps and strange ways did Aelias' Pertinax in his old age climb unto the Imperial Throne, and lost it before it was known in the Empire that he commanded it? He was the Son of a Slave, and first a Merchant, by which he became a good accountant; then he studied Grammar, and became a Schoolmaster; after that a Lawyer, and having learned to defend causes, was made an Advocate; but not prospering by these courses he listed himself a Soldier. Neither seemed he in that to thrive much better: for being arrived to the dignity of a Centurion he was cashiered with infamy. But he quitted it not so; for returning unto the same trade in process of time he became a Senator: shortly after Consul, than Precedent of Syria: at last when he expected the Hangman to take away his life, he was saluted Emperor by those Soldiers, who then came fresh from the slaughter of Commodus. They entering his house by night, he told them, he was the man whom the Tyrant had sent them to murder: but they presented him the Sceptre and Diadem, which he accepted although then 70 years of age; and after had scarce warmed the Imperial Seat, having only reigned three Months, when he was cut in pieces in a time he lest suspected it, being so beloved, esteemed, and praised by the Romans, that every one would have spent a thousand lives to have saved his; yet notwithstanding a few Soldiers passed publicly through the midst of the City, and in the sight of all stabbed an Emperor so beloved and honoured of the people, and returned back without any so much as questioning them, when those of one street (so few were the murderers) had been sufficient to have killed them with stones. Who sees not here the inconstancy and vanity of humane things, as well in the life as unexpected death of this Prince? by how many changes and wind did he climb unto the top of the Imperial greatness, and how suddenly without any stop or turn at all was he tumbled headlong down? how long was his fortune in growing, and how quickly cut? seaventy years of a prosperous life ended in the counterfeit felicity of three Months, and the unhappy death of an hour. Then all is vanity of vanities, since that which costs so much, lasts so little, and death in less than one hour overthrows the fortune of seaventy years.  

§. 2.  
If the felicity of this life did only end when life ends, yet that were sufficient to undervalue it, but it often ends before it, and sometimes changes into disgraces and mishaps, so as with our own eyes we often behold an end of our greatest fortunes. Let us not therefore trust in life, because it may fail whilst the goods of it remain, and let us as little trust in them, because they may likewise fail whilst it continues. Let this instability of things undeceive us, and let us seriously consider their vanity in their manner of leaving us; which is excellently represented by St. John chrysostom in the Eunuch Eutropius Patrician of Constantinople, 
Hom. in Eutrop. tom. 5.  Consul and great Chamberlain to the Emperor Arcadius, who withdrawing his privacy and favour from him committed him to prison; which the holy Doctor admirably ponders in this manner. If in any time, now more than ever may be said, Vanity of vanities; all is vanity. Where is now the splendour of the Consulat? where the Lictors and their Fasces? where the Applauses, Dances, Banquets, and Revels? where the Crowns and Tapestry? where the noise of the City, and the flattering acclamations of the Circus? all those things are perished; a boisterous wind hath blown away the leaves, and left the naked tree tottering, and almost plucked up by the roots. Such was the violence of the storm, that when it had shaken all the nerves, it threatened utterly to overthrow the stock. Where are now those masking friends, those healths and suppers? where that swarm of Parasites, and that flood of wine poured out from morning till evening? where that exquisite and various artifice of Cooks, those Servants accustomed to say and do all that pleased? All these were no more than a Night's dream, which disappeared with the day, Flowers which withered when the Spring was ended; a Shadow they were, and so they passed: a Smoke, and so they vanished: Bubbles in the water, and so they burst: Spiders webs, and so were torn in sunder. Wherefore let us ever repeat this sentence, Vanity of vanities; all is vanity. This saying aught to be written upon our Walls, Market-places, Houses, Streets, Windows, Gates, but principally in the Conscience of every one, since the deceitful employments of this life, and the enemies of truth have gained too much power and authority with many. This is it which one man ought to say unto another; this is it we ought to say at dinner, at supper, and in all our conversation, Vanity of vanities, all is vanity. Did I not daily tell thee that riches were flitting and deceitful? but thou wouldst not endure me. Did not I tell thee, they had the condition of a fugitive Slave? but thou wouldst not believe me. See how experience hath taught thee, that they are not only fugitive, but ungrateful and murdering, since they have cast thee into this exigent. But because this Eunuch would neither be advised by the counsel of his Domestics, nor Strangers, do thou at least, who art puffed up with wealth and honours, make use of this calamity, and turn it to thy own profit. There is nothing more infirm than humane things. By what name soever thou shalt express their baseness, thou shalt still fall short. Call them hay, smoke, a dream, flowers which whither: all is too little: they are so frail, that they are more nothing, than nothing itself. They are not only nothing, but are still in precipitation. Who was more exalted than this man? was he not famous for his wealth through the world? was he not mounted up to the height of all humane honour? Did not all fear and reverence him? But behold him now more miserable than Slaves and Bondmen, more indigent, than those who beg their bread from door to door. There is no day, wherein are not set before his eyes Swords drawn and sharpened to cut his throat; Precipices, Hangmen, and the Street, which lead to the Gallows. Neither doth he enjoy the memory of his pad pleasures, nor the common light, but is at midday as in a dark night, penned up betwixt four walls, deprived of the use of his eyes. But wherefore do I remember those things, since no words are able to express the fear of his mind, who every hour expects his punishment? to what end are my speeches, when the image of his calamity appears so evidently before thine eyes? Not long ago the Emperor having sent some Soldiers to draw him out of the Church, whither he was fled for sanctuary, he became as pale as box, and at this instant hath no better colour than one who were dead. To this add that his teeth gnash against one another, his body quakes, his voice is broken with sobs, his tongue stammers; in conclusion he stands like one, whose soul were frozen for fear within him. All this is from St. John chrysostom. It is not needful to attend the end of life to see the imposture of it. It is enough to see the alterations whilst it lasts.    

CAP. V.  
The baseness and disorder of Temporal things: and how great a Monster men have made the World.  
LEt us now come to consider the baseness of all that which passes in time; the which appeared so mean and poor unto Marcus Aurelius, that he said, 
Lib. 2.  Those things which fall under sense, which either allure us with delight, or deject us with grief, or glitter with outward pomp and appearance, how vile are they all? how worthy of contempt? how sordid and filthy? how subject to perish, and how dead? This said that great Emperor and Monarch of the World, when the Roman Empire was in its greatest power and lustre, and in the greatest experience of the goods of the earth, being more powerful, and having more command of them, than Solomon: and yet he not only says they were vain, but vile, filthy, contemptible and dead. That we may understand this better, let us look into the substance and being, which temporal things have of themselves, without respect either to the shortness of their duration, or to the variety of their changes, for which alone, although in themselves most precious, yet were they most despicable; but being so little, so vile, so disorderly, and for the most part so hurtful and prejudicial unto us, although they were eternal, yet ought they to be contemned. We are not therefore only to look upon that littleness and poorness, which they have by nature, and from themselves, but upon the evil, which they have acquired by our abuse; For the World, which of itself were tolerable, is by us made such, that it is not to be endured even by those who best love it. And to those natural goods, which it affords, our unstable appetite hath added such artificial fopperies of our own inventions, that of both together we have composed a Monster, no less horrible, than that described by St. John in the Apocalypse. 
Apoc. 13.  And therefore he that will see what worldly felicity is, let him cast his eyes upon that Beast, which for his unquietness and unconstancy is said to rise out of the sea. He had the head and face of a Lion, the body of a Leopard a Beast various and spotted, and the feet of a Bear: and for his more deformity he had seven heads and ten horns. This the lively Image of that which passes in the World. For as this Monster is composed of three savage Beasts, of a Bear, which is carnal and luxurious, of a Leopard, whose skin is full of eyes, and of a Lion the proudest of all other Beasts: so in the World there is no other thing, as St. John saith, 
Ep. 1 c. 2.  but the Concupiscence of the flesh, the Concupiscence of the eyes, and the Pride of life, that is, Lust and exorbitancy in pleasures, Covetousness and gaping after riches, Ambition and desire of honours. Of those three Monsters is composed the Monster of Monsters, which we call the World: the which hath also his seven heads and ten horns, to wit, the Seven deadly Sins, by which are impugned the ten Commandments, and the observation of the whole Law of God.  
Let us also consider the mysterious disposition of the parts of this Beast. The feet are said to be of a Bear, the body of a Leopard, and the head of a Lion, because all the inventions, additions, stratagems, and designs of the World are founded upon the pleasure and delights of the appetite, which are natural: and upon this foundation our malice has builded riches, and honours which are not natural, but humane inventions. Riches are the body of the World, and upon them is raised Pride as the head of that body. Besides Riches are most conveniently placed in the middle between Pleasure and Honours, as being necessary for the supportation of both, without which neither can be maintained. Avarice therefore forms the body of this Beast, that it may equally nourish Pleasure and Ambition. Let us then propose unto ourselves the Image of this World under the form of this Monster and Chimaera, as well to demonstrate the confusion and turmoil of it, as to signify unto us, that the whole substance and being of it consists merely in the imagination and appearance. For such a Monster composed of the several parts of divers Beasts, which hath no being or foundation in reason, but is only framed by the fancy, the Philosophers call a Chimaera; and such truly are the things of this World, inconstant, confused and troubled, and have no substance or being in themselves, but are only deceit and appearance. Some seem great, and are but little: others cousin us more, appear to be goods, and are really evil. To understand this better and know the vanity of the World, we are to suppose that humane malice hath corrupted and poisoned it by inventing new gusts and pleasures: unto which we have added by our imagination what they wanted of being and reality: and by diverting things from those proper ends, for which they were ordained, have made them all vain, and the World a Monster of many heads; for the head of things is, as Philo calls it, the end, and the things of the World having left their utmost and true end, which is one God, and disordered themselves by the many ends of particular vices, have made that Beast, which is said not to have one but many heads, which makes it so monstrous and deformed. Men follow not in the use of things their proper end, which is to please and serve God, but aim at the serving of their passions, and satisfy their appetites: which as they are divers, so they have divers ends and respects; from whence results the monstrosity of so many heads, and faces. From the multitude then of ends follows this deformity, which includes and is always accompanied with vanity. For the world following this vanity of adulterate ends, contrary to reason and nature, leaves the true and lawful end, which is the service of God; and that which leaves its proper end becomes useless and vain. If you should blind the eyes of some excellent Marksman, his art and skill were lost, and his Bow would become unprofitable, because he remained deprived of that, by which he was to attain his end. So all things being created to this end, that man by them might serve God, this end wanting, they became vain and useless. By this example may be clearly seen how vain is the World, since it doth not direct those things it enjoys for the service of the universal Creator, but for other vain and imaginary ends, by which it becomes wholly itself a vanity? The multitude of Gold, Silver, Plate, Jewels, precious Furniture, and other Ornaments which we glory in, are they perhaps for the service of God? Let St. Alexius tell us, whether he chose them as means to that end; and if they be not for the service of the Lord of all, what are they all but vanity? Abundance of Delights, Masques, Dances, Feasts, Entertainments, are they perhaps to please God? Let St. Bruno tell us; and if they be not for that purpose, what are they all but vanity? Majesty, ostentation of Titles and Honours, are they perhaps for the service of God? Let St. Josaphat tell us; who fled from his Temporal Kingdom, that he might better apply himself unto the service of the King of Heaven. Vain is all the greatness of the Earth, if that of Heaven be not gained by it. The most precious thing failing, which is the right end, all besides becomes vain, frivolous, and of no esteem.  

§. 2.  
This deviation and wandering of worldly things from their proper and due end is sufficient to declare their vanity and disorder. But there is yet another error in them, which makes them appear much more vain, which is, that they not only go astray from their first and great end, which is the service of God, but also fail, and hold no proportion with that second end, which humane vices propose unto them here. That which our appetite pretends in Riches, Pomp and Honours, which it hath invented, is the felicity of this life: and to that they are so little proper, as they have rather disposed things for our misery and torment; and therefore vain are all our fancies and inventions. To maintain and uphold our honour, what Laws, Rights, and irregular Customs hath the World invented to the great danger of our lives, and the hindrance of our pleasures? It hath made honour so brittle, that with one word whosoever list may take it from us, which is the occasion, that many live dishonoured; and if they will recover it, it must cost their lives, fortunes, or quiet. What greater madness than that the thing, which they have made of the greatest esteem in the World, should be subject to such an inconvenience; and of so cursed a condition, that it is very easy to lose, and most difficult to regain: that any one may bereave us of it, and he which hath taken it from us, cannot restore it: that it is in another man's hand to destroy it, and not in our own to repair it? What law in the World more unjust, that if an infamous person give thee the lie, thou remainest dishonoured, although he lied, that gave it: and that honour which he by one word hath taken from thee, thou canst not recover by another? What greater folly than to fight for honour, and maintain truth by quarrelling, as if he were the most honourable person and spoke the truest, which were the strongest, especially being so prejudicial to the most virtuous? for it commonly happens that those who have the clearest, wits, the noblest souls, and the most constant and sound judgements, have the weakest bodies. Finally in this matter of honour men have invented such laws, such punctilios, such impertinent formalities, that if they were all truly and really mad, they could not have done more absurdly. For what is madness, but to do things without proportion, order, or reason? which since the World does, we must conclude it vain, senseless, and foolish.  
Coming then to Riches, which were invented for the ease and commodity of life, humane malice hath made them such, as they serve for our greater trouble and vexation. For he that is rich, will not only be rich himself, but must have all he hath so too. He is not content with having a good Garment, unless his walls be with curious Pictures, rich Tapestries, precious Cabinets, and other rarities better clad than himself, which serve not for warmth or use, but only for show and appearance. From whence it happens that he, who hath most wealth, hath most want, because he not only needs for himself, but for all which he possesseth: so that he, who hath a great house, hath the same necessities that his house, which are many: for a great house requires much furniture, and a large Family, and so charges the Master with multitudes of Servants, great quantities of Plate, Hang and other Ornaments superfluous to use and humane commodity; in so much as none are more poor than the rich: because they want not only for themselves, but for all that is theirs. At least riches want not this incommodity, that although they were invented for humane use and ease, yet he that hath them in the greatest abundance hath the greatest cares, troubles, envies, dangers, and ever the greatest losses.  
The same disorder and abuse happens in divers other particulars, which at first were invented for a comfort, and remedy of our wants, but are now become a burden and trouble unto us. Our Garments, which were for necessity, are now worn for ornament, and using them for other ends than they were designed, they become our vexations. A girdle or a shoe too much straightened afflicts the body and hinders us in divers actions: bravery, gold-chains, and other needless ornaments burden us. 
Ambros. l. 1. de Virgin.  Wherefore St. Ambrose saith, A weighty Chain of gold about the neck, or stumbling Chapines upon the feet, serve as a punishment unto women, as if they were some great offenders; for in respect of the pain and weight, with which they grieve those who wear them, what matters it, whether they be of gold or iron? both equally oppress their necks, and hinder their going. The price and value of the gold eases nothing: nay rather adds to their trouble in respect of the fear they live in, lest they should lose them, or that some should against their wills free them of their pain and trouble. According to this it little imports whether the pain be inflicted by our own sentence, (as the women in this case pass it against themselves) or by the award of others, as against offenders. Only women are in this in the more miserable condition, since others desire to be freed and eased of their fetters and imprisonment, and they to the contrary desire still to be subject and tied unto theirs. This from St. Ambrose. Our food also, which is given by nature for the sustentation of our lives, humane malice hath by the invention of new dainties and various ways of Cookery to please the , made destructive both to the life and taste: Those new infirmities and sharp griefs, whereof the World is full, being occasioned, as the Physicians affirm, by our disorderly diet and multiplicity of new devised dishes. Hector Boetius in his second Book of the History of the Scots, saith, Our Ancestors knew not those several sorts of infirmities, which we see in our age; anciently scarce any fell sick but of the stone, abundance of phlegm, or some other infirmity proceeding from cold or moisture; They lived well, and their spare diet preserved their bodies from diseases, and enlarged their lives for many years. But now of late, since we have forsaken our Country food, and given ourselves to the curious seeding of other Nations, strange diseases have entered with strange dishes. And in his ninth Book he saith, that they knew not plagues, nor sharp and violent Fevers so long as they preserved their ancient diet.  
This separation and wand'ring of worldly things from their principal and chief end, which is God, causes such a distance betwixt them and reason, that therefore they become a Monster; and so St. John very fitly paints the World in the figure of this Monster with seven heads of a beast, and none of a man. For if that man were monstrous, which had no humane head, but seven of brutish creatures, no less Monster is the World, which wants the natural end, and head, which is God, whom it ought to seek according to reason, and not pursue those false and adulterate ends which are contrary to it. The World wants the head of a man, because it doth not order itself according to the end of reason; and it retains the heads of beasts, because it is guided by passion, appetite, and the like, which are the ends of beasts. If we shall then behold the great vanity of things together with the multitude of vices, wherein men have involved them, and daily make them worse, to whom can this beast irritated with so many sharp goads, as are our sins, be tolerable? What injustice is not committed? what flattery not insinuated? what cozenage not attempted? And what revenge not executed? Avarice disquiets all, Luxury corrupts it, and Ambition treads it under foot.  
From what is said it follows, that the things of this World, represented unto us by St. John under the figure of those three fierce and cruel beasts, are according to our disorderly manner of using them much prejudicial and hurtful both to our souls and bodies. And if we should behold them as they lie hidden under that appearance of pleasure, which they feign and counterfeit, we should be affrighted, as if we had seen Lions, or Tigers, which would tear us in pieces, or Serpents, which would sting and poison us; And the like unto that, which was done by the Servant of God, Volcon, would happen unto us. 
Zon. To. 13. ex Othone.  This man was a holy Priest, and very zealous and desirous to draw a certain rich man to the service of God. He took his occasion by coming one day to dinner unto him, and entering the house he said, Sir, what have we to eat? The rich man replied, Trouble not yourself, you shall eat the best the Town affords. The holy man went straight to the Kitchen accompanied with many others who followed him, and calling the Cook, commanded him to bring forth those dishes which were provided. An admirable thing. No sooner were they brought in and uncovered, but the Capons, Pheasants, Peacocks, and other dainties turned into Toads and Serpents, with which the rich man remained amazed, and was taught, that to give himself over to gluttony, and the immoderate pleasure of his taste, was no less hurtful for him, than to feed on poisonful creatures, or to have to do with Lions, Serpents, and Tigers. And it is certain, that Lions and the most furious beasts have not killed so many, as have died by surfeits and pleasing too much their palates.    

CAP. VI  
Of the littleness of things Temporal.  
SEtting aside how vain the things of this World are, let us particularly consider how little they are, and we shall perceive that though their vanity, which swells and blows them up, seems to extend them, yet they are in themselves poor, short and little, especially if we compare them with things eternal. Beginning therefore with that temporal good, which seems to have the greatest bulk; and makes the greatest noise, to wit Honour, Fame and Renown, we shall see how narrow it is. Men desire that their fame should ring through the whole World, and that all should know their names; and if they did, what are all in respect of those in the other World, since the whole Earth in respect of the Heavens is but a point? But who is he that can be known of all who live? Millions of men, there are in the World, who know not whether there be an Emperor of Germany, or a King of Spain. Let no man then afflict himself for this vain honour; for even in his own Country all shall not know him. Many thousand years are past, and no man knew thee, and of those, who shall be born hereafter, few shall remember thee: and although thou remainest in the memory of those, yet they also in the end must die, and with them thine and their own memory must perish, and thou shalt, as before thou wert, continue a whole eternity without being known or celebrated by any. And even now, whilst thou livest, there are not many who know thee, and of those most of them so bad, that thou oughtest to be ashamed, that such mouths should praise thee, who speak ill even of one another. Wherefore then dost thou torment thyself for a thing so short, so vile, and so vain? All these things are so certain, that even the Gentiles acknowledged them. Hear only one, who was placed in the highest degree of glory and dignity in the whole World, 
Marc. Anton. l. 3. p. 200.  since he was Lord of it, the Emperor Marcus Antoninus, who speaks in this manner. Perhaps thou art solicitous of honour. Behold how quickly oblivion blots out all things. Behold a Chaos of eternity both before and after. How vain is the noise of fame? how great inconstancy, and uncertainty of humane judgements and opinions? in how narrow a compass are all things enclosed? The World is but a point: and of it how small a corner is inhabited, and who and how many are those in it who are to praise thee? And a little after he adds: He who desires fame and honour after death, thinks not that he, who is to remember him, shall shortly die also, and in the same manner he who is to succeed after him, until that all memory, which is to be propagated by mortal men, be blotted out. But suppose that those, who are to remember thee, were immortal, what could it import thee being dead? nay even alive what could it profit thee to be praised? all that is fair, is fair of itself, and is perfected within itself, and to be praised is no part of the beauty. He therefore who is celebrated is for that reason neither better nor worse. These Antidotes are drawn by the Pagan Prince against the poison of ambition. Why therefore should we Christians esteem any honour but that of God?  
What shall I say of the vanity of those titles, which many have assumed against all reason and justice, only to make themselves known in the World? Let us judge how it will far with us of Europe by those, who have taken titles upon them in Asia. For if the fame of those in Asia arrive not to the knowledge of us in Europe, no more shall ours in Europe to theirs in Asia. The name of Echebar was thought by his Subjects to be eternal, and that all the World did not only know, 
Jarricus in Thesau. Indic.  but fear him. But ask here in Europe, who he was, and no man hath heard of him; and demand now of the most learned, and few shall resolve you, unless perchance he find here in my writing, that he reigned in Mogor. How few have heard of the name of Vencatapadino Ragiu? he imagined that there was no man in the World, who knew him not. The same thought had his Servants, and called him, The Lord of Kings, and supreme Emperor. The titles which he arrogated to himself, and put in his Edicts were these: The Spouse of good fortune, King of great Provinces, King of the greatest Kings, and God of Kings, Lord of all the Horsemen, Master of those who cannot speak, Emperor of three Emperors, Conqueror of all he sees, and Preserver of all he conquers, Formidable unto the eight Regions of the World, Lord of the Provinces which he overcomes, Destroyer of the Mahometan Armies, Disposer of the riches of Zeilan, He who cut off the head of the invincible Viravalano, Lord of the East, South, North, and West, and of the Sea, Hunter of Elephants, He that lives and glories in his military valour. These titles of honour are enjoyed by the most excellent in warlike forces Vencatapadino Ragiu, which rules and governs this World. How many can tell me, before I declare it here, that he was the King of Narsinga? If then these warlike and potent Princes are not known in Europe, No more shall Charles the Fift, and the Grand Captain, and many other Excellent men in arms and literature, which have flourished in these parts, be known in Asia and Africa.  
If we shall reflect upon the truth of those titles, which many arrogate unto themselves, we shall perceive them all to be vain. How many are called Highness and Excellence, who are of a base and abject spirit, and continue in mortal sin, which is the meanest and lowest thing in the World? How many are called Screnissimi, who have their understanding darkened, and their will perverted? Others call themselves most Magnificent, with as much reason as Nero might be called most Clement. This vanity hath proceeded so far, that men have not feared to usurp those titles, which only belong to God, and have thereupon raised, great wars, and slain innumerable people. Wherefore St. John said, that the Beast which risen out of the Sea, had upon his head names of Blasphemy; and afterwards that the purple Beast was full of names of Blasphemy in regard of the blood that hath been spilt in the World for those vain titles, and some of them contrary unto the essence of God, as the calling of Rome Eternal, and deifying her Emperors, which was no better than blasphemy. The things wherein we have placed honour makes it most ridiculous. Some think they should be valued and esteemed because they are strong: not remembering that a Bear, a Bull, or a Sumpter-mule is stronger than they. Some because they are richly clad become mighty proud and puffed up, not being ashamed to be more esteemed for the work of a Mechanic Taylor, than for their virtuous actions. Others think to be honoured for their dishonours, bragging of their vices, murders, and adulteries. Others boast of the nobility of their blood, without looking upon virtue, and so make that a vice, which was to oblige them to noble actions, converting that which was to be their honour into infamy, valuing themselves more for being noble, than being Christians. A man is no greater than what he is in the eyes of God; and the estimation which God hath of us is not for being born in a Palace, but for being reborn in the water of Baptism. What comparison is there betwixt being born of noble lineage, and being born from the side of Christ Jesus? The penitent Virgin Donna Sancha Carillo so often as she assisted at Baptisms beheld Christ upon the Cross, 
Ro. in ejus vita lib. 2. c. 1.  with his side open, and the Child issuing forth: giving us to understand the new birth we receive from the blood of Christ in our Christianity, for which God esteems men more than for being born of sinful blood. This birth is of dishonour, that of honour; this of sin, that of holiness; this of the flesh which kills, that of the spirit which quickeneth; by this we are the sons of men, by that of God; by the birth of the flesh we are heirs of our father's fortunes, but much more of their miseries, for we are born sinners; by the birth of Baptism we are the heirs of heaven, and for the present we receive grace, and for the future glory. What an error is it then to value ourselves more for our humane birth, by which we are made sinners, than for our divine birth, by which we are made just? How foolish were he, who being the Son of a King and a Bondwoman should esteem himself more for being the Son of a Slave than of a Monarch? More fool is he who values more the nobility of his blood in being a Gentleman, than the nobility of his soul in being a Christian. Finally all honours of the earth are but such, as Matathias told his Sons, dung and corruption. St. Anselme compares those who seek after honours, to boys who hunt after butterflies: Isaias unto spiders, which disimbowel themselves in framing a web, which is broken by the flies. Yet for all this poorness and baseness of honours many souls have perished by them. If David cursed the mountains of Gelboe because Saul and Jonathan died upon them, with much more reason may we curse the high mountains of honour, upon which so many Souls have been seen to perish?  

§ 2.  
Let us now consider what Riches are, unto whom St. Gregory Nazianzen did much honour, when he called them a precious dung. Truly in themselves they are not much better. Gold and Silver, said Antoninus the Philosopher, 
In vita sua c. 9  were nothing else than excrements and dregs of the Earth: that precious Marbles were as corns and seggs in the feet; and generally he says of the matter of all these things, that they are nothing but dust and corruption. Plotinus said that Gold was nothing else but a viscuous water: others that it was yellow earth. What are Precious stones, but shining pebbles, some red, some green, & c? Silk, but the slavering of worms? the finest Hollands and purest Linens, but threads of certain plants? Other webs of esteem are made of hair of beasts: whereof if we should meet one in our meat, would make us loathe it: and many in their  are proud of them. Curious Furs what are they, but the skins of contemptible vermin? Civet, but the sweat of a Cat near his most noisome parts? Amber, but the uncleanness of a Whale, or something which the Sea purges from it as not worthy to be preserved? Musk, but the putrified and congealed blood of a poor Beast? What are Possessions, Palaces, Cities, Provinces and spacious Kingdoms? They are indeed only toys of men, who, though old, are but Children in esteeming so much of them; and this I say not comparing them with things eternal. Lucian beholding them not from the Empyrial Heaven, 
Lucian in Icaromenip.  but from the Sphere of the Moon, said, All Greece possessed not above four fingers: and that Peloponesus was not bigger than a Lentil seed. To Seneca the whole compass of the Earth seemed but a Point; and all the greatness there only matter of sport. 
Hom. 24. in Mat.  St. chrysostom more seriously looking upon the so much esteemed greatness of this World, the brave Palaces, renowned Cities, large Kingdoms, compares them to those little houses of sand or dirt made by Children for their entertainment; which men stand by and laugh at, and oftentimes, if their Parents or Masters find that it hinders them from learning of their lessons, they strike them down with their feet, and destroy that in a moment, which hath cost the boys much time and labour. So God useth to deal with those, who neglecting his service employ themselves in scraping together riches, enlarging their possessions, building of Palaces, strong Forts, and walled Towns, which he destroys with that ease, as if they were those little houses of sand made by Children. And certainly more Children are they who set their hearts upon the greatness of this short life, than those who busy themselves in walls of dirt. This is of St. John chrysostom; 
Hom. 14. de Avaritia.  Who in another place saith, That if looking upon a Table, where we behold painted a rich and powerful man, and a poor and contemptible Beggar, we neither envy the one nor despise the other, because we know them to be shadows and no truth: The same judgement we ought to make of the things themselves: for all according to Scripture are little more than nothing. And as in a Comedy or Farce it imports little who plays Alexander, and who the Beggar, since all are equal when the Play is done: So are all after death. If Herod offered to a dancing Girl, because she pleased him, the half of his Kingdom, what was the whole worth? And Aman, who possessed great wealth, confessed he valued them as nothing so long as Mardocchus did not reverence him.  
The pleasures of our  (if we consider them) what more vile, and nasty? A Capon, a Hen, or a Duck, which is the ordinary food of rich men, if we but observe their feeding, nothing would be more loathsome. If in your Cooking you should fling into the pot worms, grubs, horse-dung, and other such stuff, no body I believe would eat of it; and what is a Hen but a vessel filled with such uncleanness? Other meats which are most coveted by our sensual Belly-gods, if they should behold by what they are nourished would cause a loathing. The Lamprey, which was the delicacy of the Romans, feeds but upon mud and sluch. There is no meat more neat and clean, than bread, herbs, and water, the food of Penitents.  
How narrow is the Sphere of all our pleasures, which, besides the short time that they endure, are mingled with wormwood of many pains and griefs, which accompany, precede, and follow them? The Adulterer how many troubles and dangers does he usually pass before he compass his desire? in the enjoying what fears and suspicions assault him? and when it is past, (if he think seriously of the sin) what remorse and repentance afflict him? and oftentimes how many long diseases and sharp pains succeed that which lasted but a moment? Let us compare our pleasures with the griefs which follow them, and we shall find those far to surpass the other. The several sorts of gusts, whereof the touch is capable, exceed not two or three; but the dictinct sorts of pains, which afflict it, are without number: The pain of the Sciatica, the Stone, the Gout, the Toothache, the Headache, besides innumerable other griefs and violences most intense and horrible, which follow the tortures invented by Tyrants. The greatest pleasure of the sense holds no comparison with the grief endured by the separation of a member, or the pain suffered by him, who hath the Stone, Sciatica, or some violent disease in extremity.   

§ 3.  
Well may be seen the poverty and insufficiency of the pleasures of this life, in that our appetite still strives to enlarge them by inventing new and artificial entertainments, which by their multitude may supply the defects of those which are natural. Well may appear the irksome weariness of this life by all our endeavours, which aim at nothing more, than to give it some ease and relief. How many kinds of curious Stuffs have been woven to please us in our Garments? what diversity of easy Beds and Couches have been found out? what close Chairs, Litters, and Coaches have with excessive cost and charges been invented? and the invention of them is no sooner known, but we pursue it with that pride and haste, that they esteem themselves unhappy, who enjoy them last, although their use be no ways necessary. 
Fra. Pruden. de Sandoval. Hist. De Car. 5. P. 2. l. 28. See. 36.  The Bishop of Pampelona, Historiographer to Charles the Fift, writes that in the year 1546 there were no Coaches in Spain: and that much about the same time one being brought thither for the Emperors own person, whole Cities ran out to see it, and admired it as if it had been a Centaur or some Monster. And now what more frequent? The invention, because easy, was so pleasing, that in few years' people of very ordinary condition began to use them: in so much as it was thought fit within a very short time after to prohibit them; which is more to be admired in respect of the simple and homely way which a little before was used by the most eminent persons. They writ of the Duke of Medina Sidonia, who for wealth and nobility is one of the greatest in Spain, that when he and the Duchess went to visit our Ladies de Regla, a Church of great devotion in Andalusia, they went in a Cart drawn with Oxen, the which was in the year 1540 Shortly after within five or six years came the Coach into Spain whereof we have spoken, and within nine or ten years there was such a multitude of them, that by a public Edict in the year 1577 all Coaches with two horses were forbidden, because many of inferior condition used them both to the destruction of many serviceable horses, and to the prejudice of their own wealth and modesty. With such haste doth our humane appetite run after what it conceives commodious, piecing out with art that which seemed short in nature. The same happened, as Dio Cassius reports, with Litters, which were brought into Rome in the time of Julius Caesar: but quickly, as Suetonius reports, it was necessary for the same Julius Caesar to forbid them.  
The same hath and doth pass in costly Apparel, which is so equal a disorder, that Tully doubts, whether is more indecent for the nature of man, The use of Coaches, or the curiosity of Garments, and calls them both impudent and shameless; And truly, as they are used by many, they are no less. The same Cicero said, that the Roman Soldiers counted their Arms as the members of their bodies, because they were no less troubled with the loss of the one than the other. The same account many make of their neat and curious garments: and are no less sensible if their  chance to be disordered, than if they had a member broken or out of joint. Macrobius writes of Quintus Hortensius a Roman Senator, that he was so curious in ordering his Garments by a large Looking-glass made on purpose, and disposing the plates of his Gown, which he gathered after into a acquaint knot after the Roman fashion, that being Consul, and going into the Forum in all this nice formality, accompanied with his Colleague, it happened that in a great press and crowd of people his fellow Consul chanced to disorder a little the plates of his Gown: which he took so heinously, that he commenced an action of offence against him, which the Romans called de Injuria, as if he had broken his arm or some other member. What shall I say of Ornaments so costly and so foolish, that even the World itself seems to condemn them, in regard that being now glutted with the Garnitures of silk and gold, it falls to make Embroideries of straw: as if it had already learned and understood, that for the use of Garments it is one and the same thing to adorn them with straw, as with gold and silver; and for this reason Laces and Points made of straw are made use of in lieu of gold and silver?  
But after the divers Inventions of Apparel, who can reckon the several ways invented to please our senses? The mixture of several Meats for the taste? the confection of Sweet-pasts and Perfumes for the smell? the melodious Music of diver; Instruments for the hearing? the Games, Pictures, and Shows for the sight, which Entertainments have been exhibited even with the spilling of humane blood? Witness the Gladiators of Rome, and the Bulls of Spain. All this variety of pleasures, which the appetite hath invented, are an evident sign of the poverty and insufficiency of nature, since all this multitude of artificial contents doth not satisfy it, nor in any sort equal our natural griefs.  
For so slight a matter is lost a thing so great, as is Eternity. For these we abolish the Law of God from our hearts, and displease our Redeemer, who would reward the contempt of those poor and transitory pleasures of the earth with great and special favours from heaven. If we will not therefore despise them for what they are in themselves, let us at least mortify our affections for what is promised us hereafter, and because it is most agreeable to God, and profitable for ourselves, as may appear by this story related by Glycas. 
Glycas & ex eo Rad. in Aula Sancta cap. 12.  A certain Anchorite had lived forty years in the desert, retired wholly from the world, and applying himself with great observance of his profession to the salvation of his Soul. A desire at last entered into his mind to know who in the world was equal to himself in mortification. Whereupon he besought God to reveal it unto him; and it pleased his Divine Majesty to grant his request, and it was answered him from heaven, that the Emperor Theod●sius, notwithstanding that he was Master of the greatest glory of the World, yet was neither inferior unto him in humility, nor in overcoming himself. The Hermit with this answer moved by God repaired unto the Court, where he found easy access unto the courteous and religious Emperor, unto whom the Servants of God, and such as were famous for sanctity of life were always welcome. Not long after he found means to speak unto him, and know his holy exercises. At first he only acquainted him with common virtues, That he gave large Alms, That he wore haircloth, That he fasted often, That he observed conjugal chastity, and That he caused justice to be exactly observed. These virtues seemed well unto the Hermit, especially in such a person: but yet judged all this to be short of himself, who had done those things with greater perfection; For he had renounced all, and given all he possessed for Christ, which was more than to give alms; he never knew woman in his life, which was more than to observe conjugal chastity, he never did injury or injustice unto any, which was more than to cause it to be kept to others; his haircloth and fasts from all sorts of dainties were continual, which was more than to abstain some days from flesh. Wherefore altogether unsatisfied he further importuned the Emperor, beseeching him to conceal nothing from him; That it was the Divine will that he should acquaint him with what he did, and that therefore he was sent unto him from God. The Emperor thus urged said unto him, Know then that when I assist at the horse-courses, and spectacles in the Circus, where my presence is required, I so withdraw my mind from those vanities, that though my eyes be open I see them not. The Hermit remained astonished at so particular a mortification in so great an Emperor, and perceived that Sceptres and Purple could not hinder a devout Prince from mortification of his affections, and meriting much with God Almighty. Theodosius further added; Know also that I sustain myself by my labour; for I transcribe certain parchments into a fair hand, which being sold, the price pays for my food. With this example of poverty amongst so much riches, and temperance in the midst of so great dainties, the Hermit was wholly amazed, and learned that abstinence from ease and pleasures of this life, was that which made this religious Prince so gracious and acceptable unto our Lord. Finally so perverse are the delights of the World, that, though lawful, yet they hinder much our spiritual proficiency, and if unlawful, are the total ruin of our Souls.   

§ 4.  
What shall we then say of the Royal and Imperial dignity, which seems in humane judgement to embrace all the happiness of the World? Honours, Riches, Pleasures, all are contained in it. But how small is a Kingdom, since the whole Earth in respect of the Heavens is no bigger than a point? and certainly neither Honours, Riches, or Pleasures are greater or more secure than we have described them. Let us hear St. chrysostom speak of the Emperors of his time. 
Hom. 66. ad pop.  Look not upon the Crown, saith he, but upon that tempest of cares which accompany it. Fix not thy eyes upon the purple, but upon the mind of the King more sad and dark than the purple itself. The Diadem doth not more encompass his head, than cares and suspicions his soul. Look not at the Squadions of his Guard, but at the Armies of molestations which attend him; for nothing can be so full of cares as the Palaces of Kings. Every day they expect not one death, but many; nor can it be said how often in the night their hearts tremble with some sudden fright, and their souls almost seem to forsake their bodies, and this in the time of peace. But when a war is kindled, what life so miserable as theirs? how many dangers happen unto them, even from their Friends and Subjects? The floor of the Royal Palace is drowned in the blood of their Kindred. If I shall mention those which have happened heretofore and now of late, thou wilt easily know them. This suspecting his Wife tied her naked in the mountains, and left her to be devoured by wild beasts, after she had been a Mother of divers Kings. What a life had that man; it being impossible he should execute such a revenge, unless his sick heart had been eaten and consumed with jealousy? This put to death his only Son. This killed himself being taken by the Tyrant. This murdered his Nephew after he had made him his companion in the Empire. This his Brother, who died by poison; and his innocent Son ended his life only for what he might have been. Of those Princes which followed, one of them was with his Slaves and Chariots miserably burnt alive; and it is not possible for words to express the calamities which he was forced to endure. And he, which now reigns, hath he not since he was crowned suffered many troubles, dangers, griefs and treasons? but in Heaven it is not so. After this manner St. chrysostom paints forth the greatest fortune of the World, the Imperial Majesty, which must needs be little, since it is so unhappy, that it suffers not to enjoy those frail goods of the earth in security, but makes the possessors oftentimes perish before them. But it is far otherwise in Heaven, the Palace and House of God; where the just without mixture or counterpoise of misery are to enjoy those goods eternal, as we shall see in its proper place.  
Lastly, let us learn from hence not to admire the greatness of this World, nor to desire the benefit of it; Which lesson was well taught by St. Spiridion unto his Disciple, who accompanying him one time unto the Court of the Emperor, suffered himself to be transported with those things which he beheld. The greatness and lustre of the Court, The rich Garments, Jewels, Pearls, and precious Stones dazzled the eyes of the raw and unexperienced youth: but above all the sight of the Emperor, seated in his Imperial Throne with so much splendour and greatness, almost drew him besides himself. St. Spiridion willing one day to correct his error, asked him, (as if he had not known it,) Which of those were the Emperor. His Disciple not reaching his intention, pointing with his finger, simply told him, That was he. And wherefore replied the Saint, is this man more to be esteemed than the rest? is it perhaps because he is more virtuous? or is it because he is adorned with more exterior lustre and bravery? is not he likewise to die as well as the most poor and unknown beggar? is he not to be buried? is he not as well as the rest of men to appear before the just Judge? Wherefore then dost thou value those things which are to pass, as if they were to last for ever? Wherefore dost thou admire that which hath no consistence? It were fit for thee to place thy eyes and heart upon things eternal and incorruptible, and to be enamoured of those, which are not subject to change and death.  
The same Disciple of Spiridion, being now Bishop, traveled one time with his Master, who was then also Archbishop of Trimitunte; and as they came to a certain place, where the fields were very fertile and pleasant, the Disciple being much taken with them, began to cast within himself, how he might compass an Inheritance in that good Country, and lay it to his Church. The Saint, who understood his thoughts, gave him this sweet and gentle reprehension. To what purpose, dear Brother, dost thou trouble thy thoughts with things so vain and of so little substance? Wherefore dost thou desire Land and Vineyards to labour and cultivate? dost thou not know that these things are only of an outward appearance, and within are nothing, or at least are worth nothing? We have an Inheritance in Heaven, which none can take from us; There we have a house not made by the hands of men. Look after those goods, and begin now even before the time by the virtue of hope to enjoy them. Those goods are of that condition, that if you once possess them, and make yourself Lord of them, you shall be then their eternal heir, and your Inheritance shall never pass to others. Let one place himself in the point of death, and let him from thence, on the one part behold the littleness of all things temporal, which are now past, and on the other the greatness of Eternity, whereinto he enters, which shall never pass, and he shall easily discover, how all the greatness, and commodities of this life are for their littleness and short endurance rather worthy of laughter than admiration.    

CAP. VII.  
How miserable a thing is this Temporal Life.  
LEt us also consider more particularly the substance and bulk of humane life, which we so much esteem, and we shall not a little wonder, how so many and so great misfortunes can happen in so short a space. Whereupon Phalaris the Agregentin was used to say, That if a man before he was born, knew what he was to suffer in life, he would not be born at all. For this reason some Philosophers repenting that they lived, would blaspheme Nature, railing at it with a thousand complaints and injuries, because to the best of living things it had given so bad and wretched a life: not reaching so high as to know that this was an effect of the fault of man, and not a fault of Nature or Divine Providence. Pliny would say, That Nature was but a Stepmother to mankind; and Silenus being demanded, what was the greatest happiness man was capable of, said, Not to be born, or die quickly. The great Philosopher and Emperor Marcus Aurelius considering humane misery spoke in this discreet manner. 
Aurel. Anton. in sua Philosoph.  The war of this life is dangerous, and the end and issue of it so terrible and dreadful, that I am certain, that if any of the ancient should rise again, and recount unto us faithfully, and give us a view of his life passed from the time he came out of his Mother's womb unto his last gasp, the body relating at large the pains and griefs it hath suffered, and the heart the alarms it hath received from fortune, that all men would be amazed at a body, that had endured so much, and at a heart, that had gained so great a victory, and dissembled it. I here confess freely, and although to my shame, yet for the profit, that may redound to future ages, that in the space of fifty years, which I have lived, I have desired to prove the utmost of all the vices and excesses of this life, to see if the malice of man had any bounds and limits; and I find after long and serious inquisition, that the more I eat, the more is my hunger: and the more I drink, the greater is my thirst: if I sleep much, the more is my desire to sleep: the more I rest, the more weary and indisposed I find myself: the more I have, the more I covet, and the more I grasp the less I hold. Finally, I attain to nothing, which doth not surfeit and cloy me, and then presently I abhor it, and desire something else. This is the judgement of Philosophers concerning the miseries of man's life. The same is that of the Wiseman, 
Eccl. 3.  when he says, All the days of man are full of grief and misery; neither do his thoughts rest at night. 
Stob. ser. 96.  With reason did Democritus say, That the life of man was most miserable, since those who seek for Good, hardly find it, and Evil comes of itself, and enters our gates unsought for; insomuch as our life is always exposed unto innumerable dangers, injuries, losses, and so many infirmities, that, according to Pliny, and many Physicians Greeks and Arabians, there were more than thirty several sorts of new diseases discovered in the space of a few years; and now every day they find out others, and some so cruel, as they are not to be named without horror. Neither speak I only of the infirmities, but of their remedies. For even griefs known and common are cured by cauterizing with fire, by sawing off a member, by tripanizing the scull, or drawing bones from it. Some have been cured with the opening the belly, and drawing forth the guts. Others by reason of the great malice of the disease are cured with so strange diets, that the sick persons (as Cornelius Celsus writes) have for very thirst drunk their Urine, and eaten their Plasters for raging hunger. Others are prescribed to eat Snakes, Mice, Worms, and other loathsome Vermin. But above all the cure of Palaeologus the Second, Emperor of Constantinople, was most cruel and extravagant: whose infirmity after a years continuance found no other remedy but to be continually vexed and displeased, his Wife and Servants, who most desired his health, having no ways to restore it, but by disobedience, still crossing and opposing him in what he most desired; a harsh cure for a Prince. If remedies be so great evils, what are the infirmities? The sickness of Angelus Politianus was so vehement, that he knocked his head against the walls: That of Maecenas so strange, that he slept not, nor closed his eyes in three whole years: That of Antiochus so pestilential, that his loathsome smell infected his whole Army, and his body (as hath been said) flowed with louse and vermin. Consider here the end of Majesty, when the greatest power of the Earth cannot defend itself against so noisome and so contemptible an enemy. In the same manner Feretrina, Queen of the Barcaeans, all the flesh of her body turned into maggots and grubbs, that swarming every where at last consumed her. Some have had serpents bred in their arms and thighs, which have devoured their flesh even whilst they lived. With reason then does man enter into the World with tears, as divining the many miseries, which he shall have time enough to suffer, but not to lament, and therefore gins to weep so early.  

§. 2.  
Strange Pestilences.  

Vide Pet. Bon. l. 3. Theatr. mundi.  WHat shall I say of those strange pestilential infirmities, which have destroyed whole Cities, & Provinces? Many Authors writ that in Constantinople there happened so strange a Plague, that those, who were infected with it, thought they were killed by their next neighbours, and falling into this frenzy died raging with fear and imagination that they were murdered by their friends. In the time of Heraclius there was so mortal a Pestilence in Romania, that in a few days many thousands died, and the greater part of those, who were struck, fling themselves into the River to assuage that excessive heat, which like a fire burnt their entrails. Thucydides a Greek Author writes, that in his time there was such a corruption of the air, that an infinite of people died, and no remedy could be found to mitigate that disaster; and which was most strange, if any by good hap recovered, they remained without memory at all of what was passed: in so much as the Fathers forgot their Sons, and Husbands their Wives. Marcus Aurelius, an Author worthy of credit, speaks of a Plague in his time so great in Italy, that it was easier to number the quick than the dead. The Soldiers of Avidius Cassius being in Seleucia, a City within the Territories of Babylon, entered into the Temple of Apollo, and finding there a Coffer, which they imagined might contain some treasure, opened it, from whence issued so pestilential and corrupted an air, that it infected the whole Region of Babylon, and from thence passed into Greece, and so to Rome, still corrupting the air as it went, in so much as the third part of mankind remained not alive.  
The calamities of the times nearer ours have been no less. For as our sins decrease not, so the justice of God in punishing us slakes not. A year after Francis King of France was married to Donna Leonora of Austria, there reigned in Germany strange infirmity; Those, who were infected with it, sweeting forth a pestilential humour died within four and twenty hours. It began in the West, but passing afterwards into Germany it raged with such fury, as if it meant to extirpate all mankind; for before any remedy could be found, there died so many thousands of people, that many Towns and Provinces remained desert. Such was the putrefaction of the air, that it left almost nothing alive; and those few, that remained, in sign of penance, and to avert the wrath of God, went signed with red Crosses. They writ that it was so violent in England, that not only men died, but birds left their nests, their eggs, and young ones, the wild beasts quitted their Dens, and snakes and moles were seen to go in companies and troops, not being able to endure the poison enclosed in the bowels of the earth; and many creatures were found in heaps dead under trees, their bodies broken out into blanes and botches. The year 1546. the last of May began in Styx (a City of Provence) a most mortal pestilence, which lasted nine months; in which died an infinite number of people of all ages; in so much as the Churchyards were so full of dead bodies, as there was no room left to bury others. The greatest part of those, who were infected, the second day became frantic and fling themselves out of windows, or into wells; others fell into a flux of blood at the nose, which if they staunched they instantly died. Married women became abortive, or at four month's end they, and what they went with died, whom they found covered over with spots something bluish on one side, which seemed like blood sprinkled over their body. The evil was so great, that Fathers forsook their Children, and Women their Husbands; Riches did not preserve them from dying of hunger, a pot of water being not sometimes to be had for money. If they found by chance what to eat, the fury of the sickness was such, as they often died with the morsel in their mouths. The contagion became so great, that many took it by being only looked upon; and the air of the City was so corrupted by the grievous heat of this pestilential evil, that wheresoever the steam of it came, it raised great blisters, mortal sores and carbuncles. O how monstrous and horrible a thing it is, to hear the relation of the Physician, who was appointed for the cure and government of the sick? This infirmity, saith he, was so sharp and perverse, that neither Bleeding, Purging, Treacles, nor other Cordials could stay it; it killed and bore down all before it, in so much as the only remedy, which the infected persons hoped for, was death, of which being certain, so soon as they found themselves ill, they began to make their Winding-sheets; and there were ten thousand who wore them whilst they yet lived, knowing certainly that the remedy and end of their evil was to die: and in this manner stood expecting the departure of the soul, and the fearful separation of the two so dear friends and companions: which he affirms to have seen in many persons; especially in one woman, who calling him at her window to appoint something for her infirmity, he saw sewing her Winding-sheet; and not long after those who were appointed to inter the dead, entering the house found her stretched out upon the floor, her Winding-sheet not yet finished. To all this is humane life subject. Let those therefore who are in health and jollity fear what may befall them.   

§ 3.  
Notable Famines.  
FAmine is no less a misery of man's life than Pestilence, which not only particular persons, but whole Provinces have often suffered. Such was that which afflicted the Romans, when Alaricus that arch-Enemy of Mankind after the destruction of all Italy besieged Rome. The Romans came to that poverty, famine, and want of all things, that having nothing left of that which men commonly use to eat, they began to feed on Horses, Dogs, Cats, Rats, Dormice, and other vermin, where they could lay hold on them; and when those failed, they eat one another. A horrible condition of humane nature, that when God suffers us to fall into those straits, our necessity forces us to feed upon our own kind. Nay, Fathers spare not their Sons, nor Women those, whom they have brought forth. The same happened in the Siege of Jerusalem, as Eusebius recounts in his Ecclesiastical History. At the Siege of Numantia, when Scipio had cut off all provisions from entering the Town, the Inhabitants fell into that mortal and doglike famine, that every day they sallied forth to catch Romans, as if they had hunted after wild beasts. Those whom they took they fed upon their flesh, and drunk their blood, as if they had drunk fountain water or fed upon Kid. They pardoned none; but such as fell into their hands were cut in quarters, and sold by pieces publicly in the Butchery; in so much as the flesh of a dead Roman was of greater value than the ransom of a live one. In the fourth book of Kings there is mention made of a Famine in Samaria, in the time of Elizeus the Prophet, which much exceeds this. The want of food was so great, that the head of an Ass was sold for 80 pieces of silver, and the fourth part of a small measure of Pigeons dung for 5 pieces. The most lamentable and inhuman was, that having spent all their provision, Women eat their own Children; and one Woman complained to the King of Israel, that her neighbour had broken an Agreement made betwixt them, which was, That they should first eat her Child, and, that done, the others. I, says she, have complied with my obligation, and we have already eaten mine, and now she hath hid hers, and denies me my part. Which the King hearing rend his garments, and was struck with unspeakable sorrow. Josephus in the seaventh Book of the Wars of the Jews relates a story much like unto this, 
Joseph. l. 7. de bell. Jud. c. 2.  but executed with more fury, and after a more strange manner. There was, saith he, in Jerusalem, when it was besieged, a Lady rich and noble, who had hid in a house of the City the most part of her wealth, and of the rest lived sparingly and with great moderation. But she was not suffered to do so long; for the Soldiers of the Garrison discovering her stock in a short time bereft her both of what she had within doors and without; and if she chanced at any time to be relieved by friends, or beg some little thing to assuage her hunger, they would take it from her, and tear the morsel out of her mouth. Seeing herself therefore destitute of all hope or counsel, and certain to die of hunger, and no possible remedy left for her necessities, she began to arm herself against the laws of Nature, and beholding the Infant which hung at her breast, she cried out in this manner; O unhappy Son of a more unhappy Mother! how shall I now dispose of thee? where shall I preserve thee? things are driven to that exigent, that though I save thy life from famine, thou art certain to be a Slave to the Romans. Better it is, my Son, that thou now sustain thy Mother who gave thee being, and strike a terror into those cursed Soldiers, who have left me no other way of subsisting; better that thou become an argument of pity unto future ages, and raise sorrow in hearts not yet born. At these words she cut the throat of her tender Infant, divided it in the middle, roasted one half and eat it, and laid aside the rest for another meal. She had no sooner ended this lamentable Tragedy, but the Soldiers entered; who smelling the roasted flesh began to threaten the Woman with death if she discovered not her store. But she distracted with rage and horror of her act, and desiring nothing more than to accompany her dead Infant, without fear or being abashed at all replied in this manner; Peace friends, we will share like brothers: and saying this, she fetched the half Child, and placed it upon the Table before them. At which hideous sight the Soldiers being amazed and confounded conceived so great horror and compassion in their hearts, that they were not able to utter one word; but she to the contrary staring upon them with a wild countenance full of fury and distraction, with a hoarse and broken voice, spoke in this manner; Why, how now Masters, how comes this to pass? is not this my Son, the fruit of my own body? is not this my act? why do ye not then eat, since I have begun unto you? are you perhaps more nice than a Woman? are you more scrupulous than the Mother which bore it? for shame fall too; It is I who have eaten of it first, and 'tis I will bear you company in eating of the rest. But they not being able to behold so horrible a spectacle fled out of doors, and left the miserable Mother with that little which remained of her Son and all her wealth.  
Unto these stories I shall add one more lamentable, in which will clearly appear unto what calamity humane life stands exposed. It is written by William Paradin, a man of great learning and diligence, in a Treatise of things memorable in his time. He relates it thus. In the year 1528 men were grown so dissolute in their lives, and so given over to all sorts of wickedness, that notwithstanding those cruel and bloody wars which then reigned in most parts of Europe, they humbled not themselves, nor converted unto their Lord God, but became every day worse, and fell into that extremity of vice and mischief, that God being offended let lose the sharp arrows of his wrath and vengeance against the Realm of France with such fury, that all men thought the final destruction of that Kingdom was then come. The want of corn, wine, and other fruits of the earth, and the miseries and calamities of those times were such, as no Records ever mention the like. For five continued years, beginning at the year 1528, the four Seasons of the year never kept their due and natural course, but were in that confusion and disorder, that sometimes Autumn came in Spring, and Spring in Autumn, Summer in Winter, and Winter in Summer; only the unnatural Summer seemed to overcome the rest of the parts of the year, and the heat doubled his forces against his enemy the cold: insomuch as in December, January, and February, when the cold aught to season and mellow the earth with frost and snow, the heat was so excessive, that the ground was parched and burnt up; which was a most prodigious thing to behold. In all those five years there was not two days together of hard weather: neither those so intense, as to glass the waters with the least show of ice, by which excessive heat were bred in the bowels of the earth an infinite number of Vermin, Snails, Grubs, Worms, Lizards, and other creatures, which eat up the young and tender corn in the herb, and much of it was devoured and consumed in the husk before it sprung up: which was the reason, that Wheat, which uses to sprout up divers sterns from one grain, hardly put forth one or two, and those so abortive, weak and dry, that in reaping time they gathered not half so much as they sowed, and sometimes nothing at all. This Famine lasted without cease or intermission five whole years; a thing so lamentable, that it is impossible for them to imagine who have not seen it. The people were so oppressed and afflicted with this mortal hunger, and many other evils which accompanied it, that it was pitiful to behold. For many who were rent men, and reasonable well to pass, left their Houses and Granges, and went from door to door like wanderers, begging an alms for God's sake. Every day the number of the poor increased, in such a manner as it was fearful to behold them, going up and down in troops impossible to remedy, and dangerous to suffer. For besides the fear and hazard of being rob, to which necessity might without sin enforce them, the air was filled with stench and corruption from their breaths and bodies. To assuage their hunger, they filled themselves with all sorts of herbs good and bad, wholesome and poisonous; they ransacked all Gardens and Orchards, not sparing so much as the roots and stalks of Cabbages, and of them found not enough to satisfy their ravenous appetites; and failing of Potherbs in the Gardens, they fell upon those which grew wild in the Fields. Many of them boiled great caldrons full of Mallows and Thistles, mingling with them a little Bran if they could get it; and with this stuffed their bellies like Porks. It was a wonderful thing to see their many exquisite inventions of making bread of seeds of Herbs, of Roots, of Fearn, of Acorns, of Hay-seeds, forced and taught by hunger, the Mistress of the slothful: verifying that, which is commonly said, Want and Necessity makes men seek out remedies not thought on, as it made those miserable people, seeing Hogs feed upon the roots of Fearn, to try whether they could make bread of it, robbing the food even from Swine to sustain themselves; Which evidently demonstrates the wrath of God against the impurity and filthiness of our sins, since he permits men to fall into that necessity, as to feed and feast with those unclean creatures. From hence were engendered many sorts of infirmities: great companies of Men, Women, Boys and Girls, young and old, of all ages, went up and down the streets naked, pale, shivering with cold, some swollen like Drums with Dropsies, others stretched upon the ground half dead, and ready to draw the last gasp, and of such the Stables and Dunghills were full; others trembled as if they were infected with quicksilver, so as they appeared more like unto Ghosts and Phantoms than living men. But above all the greatest pity was to behold thousands of Women, feeble, pale, and hungerstarved, charged with an infinite number of their poor languishing Infants, which dried up with hunger, could not so much as weep or demand succour from their sorrowful and afflicted Mothers, who could only help them with their pitiful and compassionate looks, of which rivers of tears which ran from their eyes were a sufficient witness; and this certainly was the most lamentable Scene of this miserable Tragedy. The same William Paradin writes, that in Lonhans, a Town of Burgundy, he beheld a poor woman, who with all the diligence, she could use, had gotten a little morsel of black bread, which when she was about to have eaten, her Infant unto whom she gave suck, a boy of about a year old, who had never until then eaten bit, snatched it out of her hand: at which the sorrowful Mother admiring, beheld with what greediness he devoured that little piece of dry bread, as savourly as if it had been a Marchpane; which when he had eaten, the Mother picked up the crumbs that fell from his mouth, intending to eat them herself, but the Infant fell into so great unquietness, and so violent a fit of crying, that she was forced to leave them; and truly it seemed the Child knew the scarcity of that kind of food, and was therefore unwilling of a companion. What heart so hard and inhuman, that would not burst at the sight of so rueful a spectacle? The same Author further writes, That in another Village near unto this, two women not finding any thing wherewith to assuage their hunger, filled themselves with Sea Onions, not knowing the property of that venomous herb, which in such a manner poisoned them, that the extremities of their hands and feet became green as the skin of a Lizard, and a corrupt matter flowed from betwixt their nails and flesh, for which not receiving help so soon as was requisite, they both died. There was no creature which became not an executioner of the wrath of God. The poor labourers left their Lands and Inheritances in hope to be relieved by the Rich, who had long since heaped up great quantities of corn in their Granaries: from whom at the first they bought bread at excessive rates; afterwards, money failing, they sold and pawned their Lands and Inheritances for vile and low prices: for that which was worth an hundred crowns was sold for ten. Such was the abominable and greedy avarice of the Usurers, as if it were not enough for the poor to be scourged by the wrath of God, and to have the Elements and Creatures declared their enemies, but Men themselves must become their Hangmen, and persecute and afflict their own kind. The Extortioners perceiving the desired occasion, which the perverseness of the time offered them, lost it not, but had Brokers and Factors in the Villages to buy the Inheritances of the poor at what price they pleased; which the afflicted willingly parted with, that they might have wherewith to eat; and together with it sold their Cattle and Householdstuff, and the very necessaries of their persons: and would with all their hearts have pawned their bowels to have had wherewith to feed them. Besides this, many of them saw not their Wheat measured, and were forced to take it as the Sellers pleased, who were no juster in their measure than the price. There were some Usurers, that bought a piece of Land for less money than the Notaries would take for drawing the Writings. After all this the poor Peasants saw themselves, their Wives and Children cast out of their Houses, and to die in Hospitals. All those miseries, which fall not under imagination, are found in the life of man.   

§. 4.  
Evils of War.  
GReater than all these calamities, is that of War, which of the three Scourges of God, wherewith he uses to chastise Kingdoms, is the most terrible, as well because it is commonly followed by the other two, as for that it brings along with it greater punishments, and, which is worse, greater sins, whereof plagues are free, in which all endeavour to be reconciled with God, and even those who are in health dispose themselves for death. The Pestilence is sent by God, who is all goodness and mercy, not passing through the hands of men, as wars do. Wherefore David held it for a mercy that his people suffered pestilence and not war, because he judged it better to fall into the hands of God than men. Famine also, although it brings with it some sins, yet it lessens others; though it be accompanied with many thefts, yet it suits not so much with pride and vanity; neither doth it permit so many sorts of vices as are occasioned by War. To represent the calamities of War, it shall be sufficient to instance in some of those which have been inflicted upon Germany in our own times in these late Wars. A book whereof was set forth in another Country: whose Argument or Title I repeat not, (it is known) but it could not give an account of all. I shall only pick out some few of them, setting apart those places, which were dispeopled and burnt, whereof there were 2000 Towns only in the Dukedom of Bavaria. The cruelties, which the conquering Soldiers inflicted upon the poor people, only to discover where their wealth lay, are such as were never heard of. One of their torments was, to tie a piece of match about their foreheads, and with a stick so to straighten and screw their temples, that the blood would often burst forth, and sometimes the very eyes and brains would start forth of their broken sculls. Others they left upon the floors of their houses, or stretched out upon a table bound hand and foot, and so exposed them to be eaten by hungry Dogs and Cats; and it often happened that the starved Cats would tear their bellies, and feed upon their tripes and entrails. Others they hung up by the hands some distance from the ground, and kindled a fire under them: Unto others they chopped off their noses and ears with Chisels, and wore them in their hatbands, holding it for a great gallantry, and him for the bravest man, who was the cruelest beast. Unto others they poured water into their mouths by a Tunnel, until they had filled their bodies like a Tun, and then sat or stamped upon their bellies, until they made the water gush out at their mouths and nostrils: Others they tied unto a post, and flayed them alive like a St. Bartholomew. From some they plucked out gobbets of flesh with pincers; others they quartered and tore in pieces alive. They forced divers women, and after cut off their arms. Many were so barbarous as to eat Children; and one was known to take a small Infant, and holding it by one leg with his left hand to tear it in sunder with his right, and so to eat and suck the blood of it. The Prisoners which they took they bond not their hands, but made holes through their arms, and putting cords through them, dragged them after their horses. The bodies of men, after that they had drawn out their guts and entrails, served as Mangers wherein to feed their horses. They rob all, killed and burned men in their houses; and some grave Magistrates, whose lives they spared, were made to serve and wait bareheaded at Table upon the meanest Soldiers. Many, that they might not see and suffer those miseries, poisoned themselves; and divers Maids, flying from the Soldier's lust, cast themselves headlong into rivers and were drowned. To these miseries of War were added Pestilence and Famine. Those who fled from the Enemy died of the Plague or hunger in the open fields: and there was none to bury them, but dogs and ravenous birds which eat them. Neither had those who died in houses a more honourable Sepulchre, but were likewise devoured by rats and vermin, who were grown so bold, as sometime, if they were but one or two in a house, to eat them whilst they lived, their weakness being such as they were not able to defend themselves. But the men in many places, were revenged of this affront, and eat the rats, of which there were public Shambles, where they were sold at high prices. Those Cities were esteemed happy which had such dainties to sell; in other places nothing was to be had, but what every one provided by his own diligence. They often went together by the ears about a Rat, and cut one another in pieces in the quarrel: and happy was he that got a quarter of such loathsome vermin. Horseflesh was a great dainty, and they esteemed themselves very fortunate, who knew where to light on a dead Packhorse. Certain women found a dead Wolf all putrified and full of worms, and fed upon it as savourly, as if it had been a Kid. The bodies of Malefactors who hung upon Gibbets were not secure, nor did the dead escape that were buried in their Graves; both were stolen in the night to sustain the living. Neither were they free from this danger who were alive; for two women were known to kill a third and eat her. After such fresh examples it will not need to call to memory the calamities of former Wars. What is said is sufficient to express the miseries, which are incident to humane life.   

§. 5.  
Miseries occasioned by humane Passions.  
ABove all, the greatest calamities of Man's life are not Pestilence, Famine, or War, but humane Passions not subordinate to reason. Wherefore St. John chrysostom says; 
Chrys. in Mat.  Amongst all evils, Man is the most evil. Every Beast hath an evil, which is proper and peculiar unto it, but Man is all Evils. The Devil dares not approach a just man: but Man dares despise him. And in another place to the same purpose. Man is compared to the beasts of the field. 
Hom. in Ascen.  It is worse to be compared to a beast, than to be one; for it is no fault to be born an unreasonable creature, but to be endued with reason, and to be compared to a beast is a fault of the will; so as our untamed passions make us worse than beasts. It is not credible what one man suffers from the passions of another. What did David suffer from the envy of Saul? Exile, hunger, dangers and war. Naboth sooner lost his life by the covetousness of Achab, than he could have done by a plague. Elias was more afflicted with the desire of revenge in Jezabel, than if he had had the pestilence; for that made him weary of his life, and this would but have made him weary of his disease. What Plagues, or Wars, or Tortures were like the Ambition of Herod, which destroyed so many thousand Children? What contagion was more mortal than the cruelty of Nero and other Tyrants, who took away the lives of so many innocent people to satisfy their fears or fancies? Wherefore Tully says; Our desires are unsatiable, 
Cicero de finibus.  and do not only destroy particular Persons, but entire Families, and ruin the whole Commonwealth. From desires spring hatred, dissensions, discords, seditions and wars. What sorts of death and torments have not hatred and humane cruelty found out? What sorts of poison hath not the passion of Man invented? Orpheus, Orus, Medesius, Heliodorus, and other Authors have found five hundred several ways of giving poison hiddenly: which have since been increased by others. But in respect of what is this day known and practised they were ignorant. Nothing is now secure, since poison hath been given even in the shaking of hands, when men were to be reconciled and made friends. Only in the sense of hearing it hath not yet found a door to enter: all the rest of the senses it hath mastered; with the smell of a Rose, with the sight of a Letter, with the touch of a Thread, with the taste of a Grape death hath found an entrance.  
There is nothing brings more misery upon man than his passions, with which he pardons not himself. The proud man grieves and consumes for the felicity of another: The envious dies to see a happy man live: The covetous man loses his sleep for what he hath no need of: The impatient man tears his bowels for that which imports not: and The choleric man ruins himself for what no way concerns him. How many for not conquering one passion have lost their fortunes, their quiet, and their lives, both temporal and eternal? Witness Aman, who desirng more reverence than was due to him lost his honour, wealth and life, and ended on a Gibbet. The ambition of Absalon rested not until it left him hanged in a tree by the hair of his head. In the same manner the disordinate love of Amnon, which made him first sick and pale, and distempered him more than a burning fever, at last cost him his life. Unto many their unmortified passions have been like cruel Hangmen, which have suddenly bereft them of their lives. 
Dubravius l. 2. hist. Bohem. an. 1418.  Dubravius writes that Wenceslaus King of Bohemia entered into so great fury against a Courtier of his, for not giving him timely advice of an Uproar raised by Lisca in Prague, that he was like to have killed him with his own hands; but being witheld from defiling his Royal Majesty with the blood of his Vassal, he fell into an Apoplexy, and died immediately. 
Aurel. Vict. in. Epitome vitae Nervae.  The death of Nerva was likewise upon a sudden anger. And Pliny writes of Diodorus Cromus, that he suddenly died of shame, for that he was not able to answer a question proposed by Estibon. Through Fear, Grief, Joy, and Love many have died. I will only relate here a lamentable story written by Paulus Jovius. 
Jovius l. 39 hist. sui temporis.  A certain married man had lived long in adultery with so great scandal, that the Bishop of the City excommunicated both him and his Paramour, if they accompanied any more together. The man was so besotted with his passion, that contemning the Command of the Bishop, he went secretly one day to see his Mistress, who having repent of what was past, entertained him with harsh language, reprehended his impudence, and commanded him to departed her presence, and never more to see her; But he still continuing in his madness began to call her ungrateful and unworthy, and in a rage clasping his hands together and lifting up his eyes towards heaven, as if it were to complain of her unkindness, fell down stark dead, and in a moment lost both his life temporal and eternal: and his body was not suffered to be interred in hallowed earth. If then our disordered passions be so hurtful unto our own lives, how dangerous and prejudicial are they unto the lives of others? Certainly if all other misfortunes were wanting, those were sufficient, which are caused by humane-passions. There is much to be suffered from the conditions of men, ill language, displeasing correspondencies, wilful injuries, and perverse dispositions. All man is misery and cause of miseries. Who is so happy to content all, and be envied of none? who is so general a well-doer, that no body complains of him? who so liberal, that finds not some ungrateful? who so esteemed, that some murmurers do not despise him? The Athenians found fault with their Simonides, because he talked too loud: The Thebans accused Panniculus, that he spit too much: The Lacedæmonians noted in Lycurgus, that he went hanging down his head: The Romans thought Scipio slept too much, and that he snorted too high: The Uticans were scandalised at Cato's eating too fast on both sides at once: They held Pompey for rude and illbred, because he scratched his head with one finger: The Carthaginians spoke ill of Hannibal, because he went open-breasted with his stomach bare: Others laughed at Julius Caesar, because he was ill girt. There is none so upright, in whom envy or extravagant conditions will not find something to reprehend.  
The greatest miseries are those, which men by their unbridled affections bring upon themselves. Whence proceeded that notable saying of Ecclesiastes, 
Eccl. c. 4.  which far exceeded all that hath been spoken by Philosophers concerning humane misery. I praised (saith he) the dead before the living; I judged him more happy than either, who was not born, nor had seen the evils which are done under the Sun. For there is nothing which offends humane nature more, than the follies and impertinencies of men, and the hatreds, injustices, violences, and inhumanities' caused by their irregular passions. Whereupon some Philosophers seeing humane nature governed by passion and not by reason, wholly abhorred it. Amongst whom Timon of Athens was the principal beginner, and most earnest Professor of that Sect; for he did not only call himself the capital Enemy of Mankind, but confirmed his words by his actions; for he neither conversed nor dwelled with men, but lived in the Desert amongst wild beasts, remote from Neighbourhood or Towns; neither would he be visited by any, nor discourse with any but an Athenian Captain called Alcibiades, and that not for friendship or affection, but because he hoped and foresaw (as indeed it happened afterwards) that he would one day be the ruin of his Country, and the destruction of a multitude of men. Neither was he only content with this aversion from men, but studied and invented all ways possible to destroy them. He caused Gallows to be made in his Gardens, wherein such as were desperate and weary of life might conveniently hang themselves; and having occasion some years after to make use of his Garden for the enlarging of his House, he would not pull down his Gallows, until he had called the people together to hear his Oration, assuring them, that he had something new and of importance to speak unto them. The people, who having been long acquainted with his humour, expecting something that was extraordinary, willingly assembled to hear him: to whom he spoke in this manner. O Athenians, you are not ignorant, that many have made themselves away in my Gardens. I have now occasion to dispose of them otherwise: and therefore fore thought good to tell you, that if any of you have a mind to hang yourselves, that you do it quickly; And so without more words, with this loving offer concluded his Speech, and returned to his own house, where he ended his life in the same opinion, ever philosophying of the misery of man. And when the pangs of death came upon him, abhorring mankind even unto the last gasp, he commanded that his body should not be interred in the earth, as in the common Element, wherein usually were buried the bodies of others, afraid lest his bones should lie near or be touched by men though dead: but that they should make his Sepulchre upon the brink of the Sea, that though fury of the waves might hinder the approach of all others: and that they should grave upon it this Epitaph, which is related by Plutarch; After my miserable life they buried me in this deep water. Reader, desire not to know my name. The Gods confound thee. This Philosopher wanted faith and charity, not distinguishing betwixt the Malice of man, and his Nature: having reason to abhor that, and to love this. Yet by these extravagant demonstrations he gave us to understand how monstrous are our passions, and how worthy of hate, when they are not ordered and governed by reason. And certainly all Christians ought to desire the destruction of the pomp and pride of men, as Timon did of their persons, their superfluous gallantry, their unlawful pleasures, their ostentation of riches, their vain titles of honour, their raging envy, their disordered choler, their unjust revenges, their unbridled passions. Those aught to die and be destroyed, that the men may live.   

§ 6.  
So many are the miseries of life that they cannot all be numbered. Death, which is called by Aristotle The greatest of evils, is by many esteemed a lesser evil than life: the many evils in this surpassing the greatness of the evil in that; and therefore many have thought it better to suffer the greatest, which is death, than to suffer so many though lesser, which are in life. For this reason one calls Death, The last and greatest Physician, because though in itself it be the greatest evil, yet it cures all others, and therefore prescribes the hopes of it, as an efficacious remedy and comfort in the afflictions of life. But because this comfort is not relished by all, the fear of death being so natural, and the dangers and many waves unto it accounted amongst the many miseries of life, therefore some prime Philosophers could find out no other remedy for evils than to despair of their remedy. Wherefore Seneca, when a great Earthquake happened in his time in Campania, wherein Pompeios' a famous City, and divers other Towns were sunk and many people lost, and the rest of the Inhabitants distracted with fear and and grief fled from their Country, as if they had been banished, he advised them to return home, and assured them that there was no remedy for the evils of this life, and that the dangers of death were unavoidable. And truly, if well considered, what security can there be in life, when the Earth, which is the Mother of the living, is unfaithful to them, and sprouts out miseries and deaths even of whole Cities? what can be secure in the World, if the World itself be not, and the most solid parts of it shake? If that, which is only  and fixed for to sustain the living, tremble with Earthquakes, if what is proper to the Earth, which is to be firm, be unstable and betray us, where shall our fears find a refuge? When the roof of the house shakes we may fly into the fields, but when the world shakes, whither shall we go? What comfort can we have, when fear cannot find a gate to fly out at? Cities resist Enemies with the strength of their walls: Tempests find a sheltet in the Haven: The covering of Houses defend us from rains and snows: In the time of plague we may change places; but from the whole Earth who can fly, and therefore from dangers? For this reason Seneca said, Not to have a remedy may serve us as a comfort in our evils; for Fear is foolish without Hope. Reason banishes fear in those who are wise; and in those, who are not, despair of remedy gives a kind of security, at least takes away fear. He that will fear nothing, let him think that all things are to be feared. See what slight things endanger us; even those which sustain life, lay ambushes for us. Meat and drink, without which we cannot live, take away our lives. It is not wisdom therefore to fear swallowing by an Earthquake, and not to fear the falling of a tile. In death all sorts of die are equal. What imports it whether one single stone kills thee, or a whole Mountain oppress thee? death consists in the souls leaving of the bodies, which often happens by slight accidents,  
But Christians in all the dangers and miseries of humane life, have other comforts to lay hold on, which are a good conscience, hope of glory, conformity unto the Divine will, and the imitation and example of Jesus Christ. From these four he shall in life have merit, in death security, in both comfort, and in eternity a reward. Justus Lipsius being much oppressed with his last infirmity whereof he died, some who were present endeavoured to comfort him with some philosophical reasons and sentences of the Stoics, wherein that most learned man was much studied, as appears in his Book of the Introduction to Stoical learning; unto whom he answered in this most Christian manner. Vain are all those consolations; and pointing unto an Image of Christ crucified, said, This is the true comfort and true patience. And presently with a sigh, which risen from the bottom of his heart, said; My Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ give me Christian patience. This comfort we ought to have, who were redeemed by so loving a Lord, That, considering our sins are greater than the pains of this life, and that the Son of God hath suffered fare greater, who wanted all sin, he hath deserved to convert the miseries of this life, which are occasioned by sin, into instruments of satisfaction for our sins, drawing health out of infirmity, and an antidote out of poison.  
We may also draw from what is said, how unjust was the complaint of Theophrastus, that nature had given a longer life unto many birds and beasts, than unto man. If our life were less troublesome, he had some reason; but it being so fraught with miseries, he might rather think that life the happiest which was shortest. Wherefore, as St. Jerome said to Heliodorus, it is better to die young and die well, than to die old and die ill. This voyage being of necessity, the felicity of it consists not in being long, but being prosperous, and that we at last arrive in the desired Port. St. Austin says, 
August. in Johan.  that to die is to be eased of those heavy burdens, which we bear in this life: and that the happiness is not to leave it late in the evening of our age, but that when we die they charge us not with a greater load. Let a man live ten years, or let him live a thousand, death (as St. Jerome saith) gives him the title of happy or unfortunate. If he live a thousand years in sorrow, it is a great unhappiness: but greater, if he live them ill, though with content; and therefore, supposing so many miseries, we cannot complain of God for having given us a short life, but of ourselves for having made it a bad one. 
Ambr. Ser. quadrages.  Finally, as St. Ambrose says, Our life being compassed with so many miseries, as that death seems rather a shelter for evils than a punishment, God was pleased that it should be short, that the vexations and misfortunes of it, which cannot be counterpoised with any joys of the earth, might be more supportable. At least if this life with so many miseries do not displease us, yet let the eternal with all her felicities content us better; and let us not endeavour less for the immortal life of heaven, than we do for this mortal one of earth. And therefore, as St. Austin says, 
Augus. trac. 5. in Johan. hom. 57  If thou run a hundred miles for this life, how many oughtest thou to run for the eternal: and if thou make such speed to obtain a few days and uncertain, how oughtest thou to run for life eternal?    

CAP. VIII.  
How little is man whilst he is temporal.  
IF we consider the greatest thing in nature, which is Man, we shall see how little he is whilst he is temporal. What is man saith Seneca? a frail vessel, broken with the least motion, a most weak body, naked by nature and unarmed, necessitous of Mother's help, subject to the injuries of fortune, impatient of cold and labour, composed of things infirm and fluid; and those very things, without which we cannot live, as smell, taste, watching, meat and drink, are mortal unto us. The wise Solon did not answer more favourably, when they demanded of him, 
Anton. in Mel. Stob. Ser. 96.  what was Man. He is (saith he) a corruption in his birth, a beast in his life, and food for worms when he is dead. Aristotle being asked the same question answered, That Man was an Idea of weakness, 
Dionys. Rikel. de noviss. arti. 15.  a spoil of time, a game of fortune, an image of inconstancy, a balance of envy and calamity: and the rest is of phlegm and choler. Secundus the Philosopher, being also demanded the same by Adrian the Emperor, answered, That Man was an incorporated understanding, a phantasm of time, a looker upon life, a slave of death, a travelling passenger, a guest of place, a toiling soul, a habitation for a short time. And St. Bernard saith, That Man in this time of mortality is but a beast of carriage. And the same Saint in another place says, What is Man but a vessel of dung? and in his meditations he adds; If thou markest what he voids at his mouth and nose, and at the other sinks of his body, thou hast not in all thy life beheld a more noisome dunghill. In the same part he saith, Man is no other thing but unclean seed, a sack of dung, a food for worms. 
Innocen. de Contempla. mundi, lib. 1. c. 1.  More fully Innocent the Pope. I have considered, saith he, with tears what Man was made of, what he is, and what he shall be. He was made of earth, and conceived in sin, and born for punishment. He does things evil, which are not lawful, things filthy, which are not decent, and things vain, which are not expedient. He shall be the food of fire, meat for worms, and a mass of corruption. O vile indignity of humane condition! O unworthy condition of humane baseness! Behold the plants and trees. They produce flowers, and leaves, and fruit, and thou nothing but nits, lice and worms. They furnish us with oil, wine, and balsam, thou affords nothing but phlegm, dung, and urine. Those send forth a fragrant odour, and thou abominable stink. Such as is the tree, such is the fruit. A good tree cannot bring forth bad fruit; and what is man but a tree reversed? This is the saying of this holy Pope. And such is man even in his youth and best time. But if he reach old age, which is esteemed as a felicity, the same Innocentius adds, His heart is afflicted, his head shakes, his spirits languish, his breath smells, his face wrinkles, his stature bends, his eyes wax dim, his joints quake, his nose runs, his hands tremble, his hair falls, his teeth rot, his ears grow deaf. Neither is he more changed in body than in mind. An old man is easily displeased, hardly pacified, believes quickly, long before disabused, is greedy, covetous, peevish, froward, still complaining, quick in talking, slow in hearing, admires what's past, contemns what's present, sighs, grieves, languishes, and is always infirm.  
It may also appear what Man is by the stuff whereof he is made. The first man God made of Clay, mixing together the vilest and grossest Elements. The rest of men, who have succeeded, have been made of a matter more loathsome and unclean; and worse is that wherewith they are nourished in their Mother's wombs; and their birth is accompanied with shame, grief, and pollution; which Pliny considering speaks in this manner. It is a compassion, nay a shame to think of the original of the proudest of living creatures, which is man; who often is abortive by the smell of a newly extinguished candle. From such beginnings sprung our Tyrants; from hence the butcherly mind of those cruel Hangmen. Thou which gloriest in the strength of body, thou which embracest the gifts of fortune, and thinkest not thyself her Servant, but her Son and Darling, thou who settest thy mind wholly upon victories, thou who puffed up with success holdest thyself a God, see how thou mightest have perished even before thou wert, with so little a thing as a snuff of a candle, and mayest yet with a smaller matter, pricked with the little tooth of an Adder, or, like Anacreon the Poet, choked with the stone of a grape; or, like Fabius the Roman Senator, suffocated with a hair in a draught of milk. Thus fare Pliny, who not only admired the baseness of the nature of man, but the easiness of his end.  
Consider also wherein Man ends. Man whilst he lives, (saith Pope Innocent) engenders louse and vermin; 
Lib. 3. c. 1.  when he is dead, grubs and worms; whilst he lives, affords nothing but dung, and vomits; when he is dead, stink and rottenness; alive he feeds but one man, but dead a multitude of worms. What thing more noisome than a humane Carcase? what more horrible than a dead Man? he whose embraces were most acceptable when he was alive, even his sight is troublesome when he is dead. What do riches, banquets, or delights profit us? they shall not free us from death, they shall not defend us from the worms, they shall not take away our stink and ill savour. He who even now was seated in a glorious Throne, is now fling into an obscure Tomb: he who lately feasted in a sumptuous Sala, is now feasted upon by worms in a dark Sepulchre. All this is from this contemplative Pope. 
Bernard. c. 3. Meditat.  St. Bernard also considering this miserable end of Man, saith, Man is converted into no man; why therefore art thou proud? know that thou wert in the womb unclean seed, and curdled blood, exposed afterward to sin, and the many miseries of this life, and after death shalt be the food of worms. Wherefore dost thou wax proud, Dust and ashes, whose conception was in sin, whose birth in misery, whole life in pain, and whose death necessity? wherefore dost thou swell and adorn thy flesh with precious things, which in few days is to be devoured by worms; and dost not rather adorn thy soul with good works, which is to be presented in heaven before God and his Angels? All this is spoken by St. Bernard, which every man ought to take as spoken unto himself.  

§. 2.  
Besides that man is a thing so poor and little, and composed of so base and vile materials, this littleness, this vileness hath no firmness nor consistence, but is a river of changes, a perpetual corruption, and, as Secundus the Philosopher says, 
Lib. 11. de Praepa. Evan. c. 7.  A fantasme of time; whose instability is thus declared by Eusebius of Caesarea. Our nature from our birth until our death is unstable, and as it were fantastical, which if you strive to comprehend, is like water gathered in the palm of the hand; the more you grasp it, the more you spill it. In the same manner those mutable and transitory things, the more you consider them with reason, the more they fly from you. Things sensible being in a perpetual flux, are still doing and undoing; still generating and corrupting, and never remain the same. For, as Heraclitus says, as it is impossible to enter twice into the same river, because the same water remains not, but new succeeds still as the first passes, so if you consider twice this mortal substance, you shall not both times find it the same, but with an admirable swiftness of change it is now extended, now contracted; but it is not well said to say Now and Now; for in the same time it loses in one part, and gains in another, and is another thing than what it is, in so much as it never rests. The Embryo, which is framed from seed, quickly becomes an Infant, from thence a Boy, from thence a Youngman, from thence an Old, and then decrepit; and so the first ages being past and corrupted by new ones which succeed, it comes at last to die. How ridiculous then are men to fear one death, who have already died so many, and are yet to die more. Not only, as Heraclitus said, The corruption of fire is the generation of air, but this appears more plainly in ourselves; for from youth corrupted is engendered man, and from him the old man; from the boy corrupted is engendered the youth, and from the infant the boy, and from who was not yesterday, he who is to day; and of him, who is to day, he who shall be to morrow: so as he never remains the same, but in every moment we change, as it were, with various phantasms in one common matter. For if we be still the same, how come we to delight in things we did not before? we now love and abhor after another manner than formerly: we now praise and dispraise other things than we did before: we use other words, and are moved with other affections; we do not hold the same form, nor pass the same judgement we did; and how is it possible, that without change in ourselves, we should thus change in our motions and affections? certainly he who still changes is not the same, and he who is not the same cannot be said to be, but in a continual mutation slides away like water. The sense is deceived with the ignorance of what is, and thinks that to be which is not. Where shall we then find true being, but in that only which is eternal, and knows no beginning, which is incorruptible, which is not changed with time? Time is movable, and joined with movable matter; glides away like a current, and like a vessel of generation and corruption retains nothing: in so much as the first and the last, that which was, and that which shall be are nothing, and that which seems present, passes like lightning. Wherefore as time is defined to be the measure of the motion of things sensible, and as time never is, nor can be, so we may with the like reason say, that things sensible do not remain, nor are, nor have any being. All this is from Eusebius; which David declared more briefly and significantly when he said, That man whilst he lived in this life, was an Universal vanity. Wherefore St. Gregory Nazianzen said, 
In laud. Caes.  that we are a dream, unstable, like a Spectre or Apparition, which could not be laid hold on.  
Let man therefore reflect upon all which hath been said; let him behold himself in this glass: let him see wherefore he presumes, wherefore he afflicts himself for things of the earth, which are so small in themselves, and so prejudicial unto him. With reason did the Prophet say, In vain doth man trouble himself; Upon which St. chrysostom with great admiration speaks in this manner. 
Chrysost. in Ps. 36.  Man troubles himself and loses his end; he troubles himself, consumes and melts to nothing, as if he had never been born; he troubles himself, and before he attains rest is overwhelmed; he is inflamed like fire, and is reduced to ashes like flax; he mounts on high like a tempest, and like dust is scattered and disappears; he is kindled like a flame, and vanishes like smoke; he glories in his beauty like a flower, and withers like hay; he spreads himself as a cloud, and is contracted as a drop; he swells like a bubble of water, and and goes out like a spark; he is troubled, and carries nothing about him but the filth of riches; he is troubled only to gain dirt; he is troubled and dies without fruit of his vexations. His are the troubles, others the joys; his are the cares, others the contents; his are the afflictions, others the fruit; his are the heart-burstings, others the delights; his are the curses, others have the respect and reverence; against him the sighs and exclamations of the persecuted are sent up to Heaven, and against him the tears of the poor are poured out, and the riches and abundance remains with others; he shall howl and be tormented in hell, whilst others sing, triumph, and vainly consume his estate. In vain do living men trouble themselves. Man is he who enjoys a life but lent him, and that but for a short time; Man is but a debt of death, which is to be paid without delay; a living Creature, who is in his will and appetite untamed, a mischief taught without a Master, a voluntary ambush, subtle in wickedness, witty in iniquity, prone to covetousness, insatiable in the desire of what is another's, of a boasting spirit, and full of insolent temerity; in his words fierce, but easily quailed; bold, but quickly mastered; an arrogant clay, an insolent dust, and a sparkle which in a moment is extinguished; a flame which quickly dies, a light which vanishes into air, a dead leaf, withered hay, faded grass, a nature which consumes itself, to day threatens, and to morrow dies; to day abounds in wealth, and is to morrow in his grave; to day hath his brows circled with a diadem, and to morrow is with worms; he is to day, and to morrow ceases to be; triumphs and rejoices to day, and to morrow is lamented; immeasurably insolent in prosperity, and in adversity admits no comfort; who knows not himself, yet is curious in searching what is above him; is ignorant of what is present, and scoffs at what's to come; he who is mortal by nature, and out of pride thinks himself eternal; he who is an open house of perturbations, a game of divers infirmities, a concourse of daily calamities, and a receptacle of all sorrow. O how great is the Tragedy of our baseness! and how many things have I said? But it cannot better be declared than by the voice of the Prophet: In vain doth man who lives trouble himself. For truly the things of this life, which shine and glister most, are of less profit than a putrified Carcase. This is of St. John chrysostom, in which he clearly sets forth the misery of Man, the shortness of his life, and the vanity of things temporal.   

§ 3.  
And that the perfect knowledge of ourselves may not be wanting unto us, Man is not only thus vile and base, whilst he lives, and much more being dead, but even his Soul, whilst it remains in his Body, is not of much greater esteem. For although the Soul be of itself of a most noble substance, yet our vices do so much vilify it, that they make it more abominable than the Body. And without doubt the Soul, when it is dead in mortal sin, is more corrupt and stinking in the sight of the Angels, than a Body dead eight days ago; for if that Body be full of worms, this is full of devils and vices. And even whilst the Soul lives, and is free from any mortal sin, yet by committing those, which are but venial, it becomes full of imperfections; and although it be not dead, yet it is more weak, feeble, and languishing than a sick Body; and if a man knew himself well, he would be more affrighted at the misery of his Soul, than at that of his Flesh. The devout Father Alfonso Roderiguez, a most excellent Master in matters of spirit, writes of a holy Woman, who desired light from God to know in what condition she was: and saw in herself such ugliness and deformity, that she was not able to suffer it, and therefore besought God again, saying, Not so much, O Lord, for I shall faint and be dismayed. Father Master John d'Avila saith, that he knew a person who often had importuned God to discover unto him, what he was. It pleased God to open his eyes but a very little, and yet that little had like to have cost him dear: for he beheld himself so ugly and abominable, that he cried out aloud, Lord of thy mercy take from before mine eyes this mirror; I desire not any more to behold my figure. Donna Sancha Carillo, that most fervent servant of Christ, after she had led a most perfect and admirable life, besought our Lord to give her a sight of her Soul, that seeing the filthiness of her sins, she might be further moved to abhor them. Our Lord was pleased to grant her request, and shown it her in this form. One night, as she sat alone in her Sala the door open, there passed before her an ancient Hermit, his hair all grey, and in his hand a staff to support him. She amazed at the sight of such a man, in such a habit, at so unseasonable an hour, was a little surprised with fear; yet recollecting herself, said unto him, Father, what seek ye for here? to whom he answered, Lift up my Cloak, and you shall see. She did so, and beheld a little Girl sickly, pale, and weak, with the face all covered over with flies. She took it in her arms, and demanded of him, Father, what is this? Dost thou not remember, replied the Hermit, when thou earnestly desired'st of our Lord, that he would give thee a view of thy Soul? Behold the figure of it; after this manner it is. This said, the Apparition vanished, and she remained so confused and affrighted, that it seemed unto her (accordingly as she after confessed) that all her bones were displaced with such grief and pain, as, had it not been for the great favour and mercy of God, it had been impossible for her to endure it. She passed that night almost overwhelmed with the waves of her sad and troubled thoughts. The manner of that Girl so feeble and discoloured afflicted her extremely, contemplating it as the image of her Soul; especially when she reflected on the face covered with those impertinent and troublesome little creatures, her grief was doubled: and it seemed unto her as if it had smelled like something that was dead, or some old sore: which made her send up a thousand sighs unto heaven, and to desire a remedy and mercy from our Lord. No sooner did the day so much desired by her appear, but she repaired instantly unto her Confessor, a person of great virtue and learning, and desired him with many tears to explicate unto her the meaning of that Vision, and to tell her whether those little creatures did signify any grievous and hidden sins, which her soul knew not of. The Confessor took some short time to recommend his answer unto our Saviour: which done, he returned and said unto her, Madam, trouble not yourself, but render hearty thanks unto God for the favour which he hath done you; and know that the feebleness, which appeared in the Image of your Soul, was an effect of venial sins, which weaken, but kill not; cool, but extinguish not the charity in our Souls; for if they had been mortal sins, the Girl would have been dead: for those deprive the Soul wholly of life; those which be venial only take away our fervour and promptness in the service of God, and the perfect accomplishing of his holy Law. If then the Souls of so great Servants of God are so full of miseries, wherein can miserable man boast, since he is so both in soul and body?    

CAP. IX.  
How deceitful are all things Temporal.  
FRom what hath hitherto been said may be collected how great a lie and cozenage is all that which passes in time, and that the things of the earth, besides that they are base, inconstant and transitory, are also deceitful and full of danger. This is signified unto us in the Apocalypse by the Harlot, by which was denoted humane prosperity, who sat upon that monstrous Beast, which is the World. And amongst other Ornaments, as the Scripture says, she was adorned with gilded gold; which gives us to understand her falsehood: Since it was not true and fine gold which she wore, but false and counterfeited; for although it seemed gold, it was but alchemy; and yet being gilded she sold it for true gold. So the Prosperity of the World comes decked with the goods of the earth, which she fells for true goods, setting them forth as great, secure and lasting, when they are nothing less. All is but deceit and cozenage; which is well expressed by Seneca, when he says: That is only good which is honest; other goods are false and adulterate. What greater falsehood and deceit, than to make those things, which are most vile and base, to appear so precious, and of such esteem, that men pretend nothing greater, and being more changeable than the Moon, to appear constant and secure, in so much as we remain so satisfied with them, as if they were never to change, and being fading and corruptible we seek after them as if they were eternal and immortal, remembering nothing less than their end and ours, forgetting wholly that they are to perish and we to die? It is evident they are false, since they promise of themselves what they neither have nor are. Those who work in prospective will so paint a room, that the light entering only through some little hole, you shall perceive beautiful and perfect figures and shapes; but if you open the windows and let in a full light, at most you shall see but some imperfect lines and shadows. So the things of this World seem great and beautiful unto those, who are in darkness and have but little light of heaven, but those, who enjoy the perfect light of truth and faith, find nothing in them of substance. The felicity of this life is but a fiction, and a shadow of true happiness, and by that name is often qualified in holy Scripture, which excellently expresses the nature of it. For the shadow is not a body, but a resemblance of a body, and seeming to be something, is nothing. The inconstancy also and speedy change of humane things deserves this name: because the shadow is always altering, and ends on a sudden. And as the shadow when it is at length, and can increase no further, is nearest the end: so temporal goods and humane fortunes, when they are mounted up as high as the stars, are then nearest to vanish, and disappear suddenly. And therefore one of the friends of Job faid, 
Job. 5.  I saw the fool that he had taken deep rooting, and instantly I cursed his beauty; for the more firm he appeared to stand, the more near he was unto his fall. And David said, he saw the Sinner exalted as a Cedar, but he endured no longer than he turned his eyes.  
What is to deceive, but to publish that for truth which is not, and to promise that which shall never be accomplished? I leave to the witness of every one, how often the issue of their hopes have proved vain, not finding in what they desired that content which they expected. In riches they hope for peace and repose, but meet with nothing but unquietness and cares, and many times with dangers and losses. For this Christ our Redeemer called riches deceits, saying, that the Divine Word was choked with the falsehood and deceit of riches. He is not content with calling them false and deceitful, but calls them falsehoods and deceits; for what can be more false and perfidious, then promising one thing to perform just the contrary? The prosperity of this world promises us goods, and gives us evils; promises us ease, and gives us cares; promises security, and gives us danger; promises us great contents, and gives us great vexations; promises us a sweet life, and gives us a bitter. With reason it is said in the Book of Job, that the bread, 
Job 21.  which the worldly man eats, shall be converted into the gall of Asps; because that in those things, which seem necessary for his life as the bread of its mouth, he shall meet his death, and when he hopes for pleasure, he shall find gall, and no morsel, which shall not leave some bitterness behind it. There is no felicity upon earth, which carries not its counterpoise of misfortunes: no happiness, which mounts so high, which is not depressed by some calamity. For as they anciently painted humane Fancy in the form of a young man with one arm lifted up with wings, as if it meant to fly towards heaven, and the other weighed down by some great weight, which hindered it from rising; so humane felicity, how high soever it soars, hath still something to depress it.  

§. 2.  
If we will evidently see how deceitful are the things of this world, this is a convincing argument, that no man, after he hath enjoyed what he most desires, is content with his condition, which apparently shows their deceit; neither doth any man cease to desire more, though he possess the greatest and most ample fortune in the world; which also argues their falsehood, since they, satisfy not those who possess them. No man but envies the life of some other, and grieus and complains of his own, though far more happy. Constantine the Great, who was arrived at the height of humane felicity, 
Euseb. in Orat. de laudibus Constan.  said, his life was something more honourable than that of Neatheards and Shepherds, but much more painful and troublesome. Alfonsus' King of Naples said the life of Kings was the life of Asses, for the great burdens which they bear. So as in the book of Job it is said, 
Job. 22.  that the Giants groan under the waters. In which place (as Albertus Magnus explicates it) by the Giants are understood the mighty ones of the earth, upon whom it sends troubles and vexations, (for so the name of Waters signify in that place of holy Scripture) which makes them groan under the intolerable weight of them. They are like the Giants, which in great Cities are showed at their solemn Feasts; that which appears, is some great and stately bulk covered with Gold and Silks: but that which appears not, is the little poor man, which carries it upon his shoulders, sweeting, groaning, tired and half dead with the weight. The Sumpter-mules of the Grandees of Spain, at their first coming to Court are loaden with great wealth of Silver, Vessel, Tissue-Beds, and rich Hang, their Sumpter-clothes embroidered, their Winding-staves of silver, their Cords of silk, with their great Plumes, their Bells, Bosses, and other Furniture. But although their load be rich and sumptuous, yet in fine it is a load and oppresses them, and they are ready to faint and sink under the weight of it. So is Honour, Empire, and Command. Even King David confessed as much, and says, That his loins were (as it were) disjointed, and he was bruised and wearied with the burden. Some Kings have said that, which is particularly related by Stobaeus of Antigonus, 
Stob. Ser. 3.  who, when he was crowned King of Macedonia, said, O Crown more noble than happy! if men knew how full thou art of cares and dangers, no man would take thee up, though he should find thee in the Streets. And Dionysius, to express the anxieties of the life of Kings, said, it was like that of condemned persons, which every hour expect death. This is signified by the Cup of Gold, which the Woman (that is Prosperity) who sat upon the Monster with seven heads, (that is the World) held in her hand; which although it made a fair show, yet was full of abomination: because there is none, who speaks not ill of his own condition, and many who seem most fortunate, abhor their own lot, although it appear glorious unto others. Solomon was the King who most enjoyed the goods of this life; for he resolved to satiate himself with delights, even until he surfeited. He had a thousand Wives, whereof 700 Queens, and 300 Concubines; he had sumptuous Buildings and Palaces, Gardens, Orchards, Houses of Pleasure, Woods, Groves, Fishponds, excellent Music, Men and Women Singers, the greatest and best ordered Court in the World, his Service and Vessels of gold and silver so sumptuous, as it caused admiration in the Queen of Saba: His Cavalry consisted of 40000 horse, with furniture suitable, in perpetual pay. The Treasure, which his Father David left him, was according to Budaeus ten times greater than that of Darius' King of Persia. Finally, he arrived unto that point of happiness and felicity in all kinds, that he himself admired it, and acknowledged himself for the most fortunate Prince in the world, and said, 
Eccl. 2.  Who shall feed like me? and who shall abound in all delights and pleasures as I do? Yet in all this prosperity, than which greater cannot be imagined by man, when he seriously cast his eyes upon it, he said, All was vanity and affliction of spirit; and was so discontented with his life, that he confessed it was tedious unto him, and that he detested the care he had taken about it: and envying the poor labourer, judged it was better for one to eat of what he got by the sweat of his brows. If then such exccess of fortune, felicity, wealth, honour and pleasure deceived so wise a King as Solomon, who will not he deceived? what shall we expect from some little part of felicity, when this flood of fortune could not bestow a contented and quiet life? What greater argument of the scarcity and littleness of temporal goods, when all are not sufficient to fill a humane heart? But as they are not the things which they seem, so they afford not what we expect, and therefore no man is content with what he has, that still appearing better which is another's.  
And this proceeds from the deceit of humane things, that obtaining what we desire, and not finding that satisfaction which we expected, we envy the condition of others, thinking we should there meet with that content which is not to be had at home, which seeking with much trouble, we at last come to know our error, and find their condition worse than our own. This is well expressed by Antiquity in a fiction it made full of doctrine, wherein it feigned that the Cretans presented a Petition to Jupiter, that since he was born in their Country, he would be pleased to exempt them from the trouble and labours endured by others. Jupiter answered, that this was a Privilege of those who were in heaven, and could not be granted to them who lived upon earth. Whereupon they framed a second Supplication, that it might be lawful for them to change and truck their labours and cares one with another. This was granted. Whereupon the next Fair-day every one trussing up his own troubles in a Fardel, and loading himself, brought them to the Marketplace: but began, before they bargained, to search and look into those of others, and finding them more heavy and grievous than their own, every one returned to his house as wise as he came. The remedy of afflictions is not to fly from them, but to turn unto God, since they happen unto us for our forsaking of him. And it was a most high counsel of the Divine Providence, that no man should want afflictions, that so he might know his sins: and hoping only for ease and comfort in the next life and in God, he might acknowledge and only serve him. Wherefore the Prophet Osee saith, that God deals with us, 
Osee 2.  as a Husband with a Wife, who had forsaken him, and sought after strange Lovers, who sowed thorns in her paths, that being wounded she might say, I will return unto my first Spouse; so God sows Gall and Wormwood in the goods of this life, that the Soul being afflicted may repent and turn unto him.  
Another argument of the great deceit of temporal things is this, that the more we possess them, the more we covet them, and alter the experience of their little substance and power to satisfy our hearts, yet still we desire and gape after them. It is evident that this is a great cozenage, and a certain kind of witchcraft, by which they snatch away humane affections at such a time as they should most avoid them. Nothing satisfies, and yet we desire that which does not satisfy. How vain then are they, since when we possess them, they content us▪ not, yet we still desire more? All the power and felicity of his Kingdom, nor the greatness of his Palaces, nor being Lord of so many Cities and Fields could content Achab, unless he enjoyed the little Vineyard of his poor neighbour; which being denied, he fell sick with grief and melancholy, fling himself upon his bed, and for mere rage and madness forbore to eat. O goods of the earth, where is your greatness, since the wealth of a rich Kingdom could not fill the heart of one man, but left it empty to desire more; and the want of one only thing had more power to afflict him, than so many goods joined together to content him? All things are as vain as this, since they cannot give us that for which we seek them; 
Eccl. 5.  and therefore Ecclesiastes said; The Covetous man shall not be filled with coin, and he who loves riches shall not enjoy the fruit of them. And this is vanity.  
Finally, from all which is spoken either in this or the former Books, may be drawn that consolation of in the Emperor Marous Aurclius in his Philosophy, 
Lib. 2. in fine p. 185.  where he says, The time of humane life is a moment, the nature slippery, the senses darkened, the temperature of the whole body easily corrupted, the Soul wand'ring, the fortune, what it shall be, hard to conjecture, the fame uncertain, and, to be short, those things, which belong unto the body, have the nature of a river, and those, which belong unto the mind, are as smoke or a dream. Life is a war and a peregrination, fame after death is forgotten. What is there then that can guide unto security. There is nothing but Philosophy, which consists in this, that thou conserve a mind without wound or slain, entire and undefiled, superior to all grief and pleasure, that thou do nothing without a good end, nothing feignedly or falsely, and that thou regard not what another man does or has to do: Besides, that all things, which happen, thou receive as sent from thence, from whence thou thyself art derived; Finally, that thou attend death with a quiet and temperate mind. This is from that great Philosopher.    

CAP. X.  
The dangers and prejudices of things Temporal.  
THe least evil, which we receive from the goods of this world, is to deceive and frustrate our hopes: and he comes well off, whom they forsake only with a mock. For there are many who not only fail of what they desire, but meet with what they abhor, and in place of ease and content meet with trouble and vexation, and instead of life find death, and that which they most affect turns often to their destruction. Absalon being very beautiful, gloried in nothing more than his hair; but even those became the instrument of his death, and those which he daily combed, as if they had been threads of gold, served as a halter to hang him upon an Oak. To how many have riches, which they loved as their life, been an occasion of death? This is the calamity of the goods of the earth: which the Wiseman noted when he said, 
Eccle. 5.  Another dangerous evil I beheld under the Sun, riches preserved for the destruction of their owner. This is the general and incurable infirmity of riches, that when they are possessed with affection, they turn into the ruin of their possessors either in soul or body, and oftentimes in both: in so much as we are not to look upon temporal goods as vain and deceitful, but as Parricides and our betrayers. With much reason the two great Prophets Isaias and Ezechiel compare Egypt, (by which is signified the world and humane prosperity) unto a reed, which if you lean upon, it breaks, and the splinters wound your hands. No less brittle than a reed are temporal goods, but more dangerous. Besides the other faults, wherewith they may be charged, a very great one is the hurts they do to life itself, for whose good they are desired; and are commonly not only hurtful unto the life eternal, but prejudicial even unto the temporal. How many for their desire to obtain them have lost the happiness of heaven, and the quiet felicity of the earth, enduring before death a life of death, and by their cares, griefs, fears, troubles, labours and afflictions, which are caused even by the greatest abundance and felicity, before they enter into the hell of the, other world, suffer a hell in this? And therefore St. John writes in his Apocalyps, 
Apoc. 20.  that Death and Hell were cast into a lake of fire, because the life of sinners, of whom he speaks, according to the letter, is a death and hell; and he says, that this Life and this Hell shall be cast into the other hell: and he who places his felicity in the goods of the earth, shall pass from one death unto another, and from one hell unto another. Let us look upon the condition, whereunto Aman was brought by his abundance of temporal fortunes, into so excessive a pride, that because he was denied a respect which was no ways due unto him, he lived a life of death, smothering in his breast a hell of rage, madness, and hatred: nothing in this life, as he himself confessed, giving him ease or content. What condition more like unto death and hell than this? for as in hell there is a privation of all joys and delights, so oftentimes it happens in the greatest felicities upon earth. The same which Aman confessed Dionysius felt when he was King of Sicily: to wit that he took no content at all in the greatest delights of his Kingdom. 
Tull. in Tuscul. q. Boet. l. de consol.  And therefore Boetius says, that if we could take away the veil from those who sit in Thrones, are clad in Purple, and compassed about with Guards of Soldiers, we should see the chains in which their Souls are enthralled; conformable unto which is that of Plutarch, that in name only they are Princes, but in every thing else Slaves. A marvellous thing it is, that a man compassed about with delights, pastimes, and pleasures, should joy in nothing, and in the midst of dancing, drinking, feasting, and dainty fair should find a hell in his heart. That in hell amongst so many torments sinners should not find comfort, is no marvel at all; but that in this life in the midst of felicity and affluence of all delights he should find no satisfaction is a great mystery. A great mischief than is humane prosperity, that amongst all its contents it affords no room for one true one. But this is Divine providence, that as the Saints, who despised what was temporal, had in their souls in the very midst of torments a heaven of joy and pleasure, as St. Laurence, who in the midst of flames found a Paradise in his heart: so the Sinner, who neither esteems nor loves any thing besides those of the world, should also in the midst of his regaloes and delights find a life of hell and torments, anticipating that, whereunto after death he is to enter and be confined. So great are the cares and griefs occasioned by the goods of the earth, that they oppress those who most enjoy them, and shut up the door to all mirth, leaving them in a sad night of sorrow. This is that which was represented unto the Prophet Zacharias, 
Zach. 5.  when before that the Devils came to fetch away the Vessel, wherein the woman was enclosed, to be carried into a strange Region in the Land of Sanaar, there to dwell for ever, the mouth of it was stopped up with a talon of Lead, and she imprisoned in darkness and obscurity; signifying thereby, that before a worldling is snatched away by the Devils to be carried into the mournful land of hell, even in this life he is hood-winked and placed in so great a darkness, as he sees not one beam of the light of truth; so that no content or complete joy can ever enter into his heart.  

§ 2.  
The reason why the goods of this life are troublesome and incommodious even to life itself, is for the many dangers they draw along with them, the obligations wherein they engage us, the cares which they require, the fears which they cause, the affronts which they occasion, the straits whereunto they put us, the troubles which they bring along with them, the disordinate desires which accompany them, and finally the evil conscience which they commonly have, who most esteem them. With reason did Christ our Redeemer call riches thorns, because they ensnare and wound us with danger, losses, unquietness, and fears. Wherefore Job said of the rich man, 
Job. 20. Greg. l. 15. Mor. c. 12.  When he shall be filled, he shall be straightened, he shall burn, and all manner of grief shall fall upon him; The which St. Gregory explicates in these words. He is first troubled with a weariness in seeking how to compass (sometimes by flattery, sometimes by terrors) what his covetousness desires: and having obtained it, the solicitude of keeping it is no less vexatious. He fears Thiefs, and is affrighted with the power of great ones, lest they should by violence take his wealth from him; and if he meet one in want, presently suspects he may rob him; and those very things which he hath gathered together, he fears lest their own nature may consume them. Since then the fear of all these things is a trouble and vexation, the miserable wretch suffers in as many things as he fears. St. chrysostom also says, that the rich man must needs want many things, because he is content with nothing, and is a slave of his avarice, still full of fears and suspicion, hated, envied, murmured at, and made the enemy of all men: whilst the poor life, which walks the King's highway, secured and guarded from Thiefs and Enemies, is a Port free from storms, a School of wisdom, and a life of peace and quietness. 
Hom. 47. in Mat.  And in another place he says thus. If thou shalt well consider the heart of an avaricious and covetous man, thou shalt find it like a Garment spoiled and consumed with moths, and ten thousand worms, so corrupted and overcome with cares, that it seems not the heart of a man. Such is not the heart of the poor, which shines like gold, is firm as a rock of diamonds, pleasant as a rose, and free from fear, thiefs, cares and sollicitudes, lives a an Angel of heaven, present only to God and his service, whose conversation is more with Angels than Men, whose treasure is God, not needing of any to serve him, since he only serves his Creator, whose slaves are his own thoughts and desires, over which he absolutely commands. What more precious than this, what more beautiful? But the little help, which humane life receives from temporal riches, cannot be better expressed than by that which David says, 
Psal. 33.  The rich have wanted and were a hungered: but those who seek the Lord, shall not be defrauded of all good. If then the abundance of wealth cannot free us from the necessities of the body, how shall they rescue us in the griefs and cares of the mind?  
Neither are honours more favourable unto humane life. What anguish of heart doth the fear of losing them cost us, and what shifts are we put to to preserve them? great are the inconveniences which many suffer to sustain them, even to the want of necessary food. 
Exod. 5.  For as Pharaoh exacted things impossible from the Children of Israel, commanding that no straw should be allowed them for the burning of their bricks, and yet that the same Tax and number should be imposed as before: The same tyranny is exercised over many by the World, which takes away the stock and substance, which they formerly had to sustain themselves, and yet commands them still to maintain the same pomp and equipage, which they did when they enjoyed it; so that many are forced by their honour (as they term it) to maintain a Coach and Lackeys, which they need not, when they have scarcely wherewith to feed their hungry bellies. In others what melancholy and sadness is sometimes caused by a vain suspicion, that some have thought or spoken ill of them? so many are the mischiefs and vexations, which this counterfeit good draws along with it, that many have given thanks to God, that he hath taken this burden of honour from them, that so they might live in greater quiet and repose. Plutarch says, That if a man were offered two ways, whereof the one led to Honour, and the other to Death, he should choose the latter. Lucian desiring to express it more fully, feigns that one of the Gods refused his Deity, because he would not be troubled with being always honoured. He invents this lie to make us believe the truth, which we have spoken.  
The excess also of pleasures what miseries doth it heap upon us? what infirmities doth it engender in our bodies? what torments and resentments in our consciences? for as he, who wanders out of his way without reflecting on it, is by the briers, bushes, pits, and unevenness of the ground put in mind that he hath lost himself, which, although he be otherwise well accommodated, yet troubles and afflicts him: So the ways and paths of a delicious man cry out unto him, that he goes astray, and must therefore cause a melancholy and a sadness in his heart. 
Hom. 10. in Ezechiel.  Well said St. Gregory, that he was a fool, who looked for joy and peace in the delights of the world; for those are the effects of the Holy Ghost and companions of righteousness, which are fare removed from the cares and vanities of the earth. Besides all our pleasures are so intermixed with trouble and importunities, that it is the greatest pleasure to want them. Epicurus, who was a great studier of pleasures, 
Hieron. contra Jovinian.  did, as St. Jerome writes, every all his books with sentences of temperance and sobriety; and he hath scarce a leaf which is not filled with potherbs, fruits, roots, and other mean food of small trouble: the solicitude in setting forth of banquets being greater than the delight we receive in their abuse. Diogenes in the same manner, and other Philosophers, despised pleasures as prejudicial to the commodities of life, passing for that cause their lives in great poverty. Crates fling all his goods into the Sea: and Zeno was glad his were drowned with a Tempest. Aristides would not admit the bounty of Calicias; and Epaminondas was content with one Coat, living in poverty and temperance, to the end he might live with content and honour, and free from necessities, which are often greater amongst the rich than the poor. Riches make not their Master's rich, who live in perpetual covetousness, and are never satisfied with their Coffers. Wherefore the Holy Ghost speaking of those who are called Rich, and of the Poor of the Gospel, says, those are as it were rich, and enjoy nothing, and these are as it were poor, and possess all things. For which reason St. Gregory noted, that our Saviour Christ called not the Riches of the world absolutely Riches, but false and deceitful Riches. False, in regard they cannot continue long with us; Deceitful, because they cannot satisfy the necessities of life.   

§ 3.  
It is more to be feared when the goods of this life cause the evils of the other, and that they not only rob us of the content of the present, but occasion the torments of the future, and after one hell in this life throw us down into another after death. Well said St. Jerome in one of his Epistles, that it was a difficult thing to enjoy both the goods present and to come, to pass from temporal pleasures to eternal, and to be great both here and there; for he who places his whole felicity in pamparing himself here, will be tormented hereafter: and he who is unjustly flattered and honoured here, shall be justly scorned and despised there. This was well declared by St. Vincent Ferrer in a comparison of the Falcon and the Hen. The Hen whilst she lives seeks her food in the dirt and dunghills, and at best feeds now and then upon some bran or light corn; The Falcon to the contrary is cherished, carried upon his Master's fist, and fed with the brains of Birds and Partridges: but after death they change their conditions; for the Falcon is fling upon the dunghill, and the Hen served to the table of Kings. As Jacob changed his hands, placing his right hand upon his Grandchild who stood upon his left side, and his left hand upon him who stood upon the right, preferring the younger before the elder; so God uses to change his hands after death, and prefer the younger, who are the poor and despised in this life. For this Christ our Redeemer pronounces so many Woes against the rich of this world. Woe be unto you rich, who rejoice in this world: ye shall weep in the next; Woe be unto you who are now filled: you shall hunger hereafter; Woe be unto them, who have their heaven here; it is to be feared a hell will succeed it. Let us tremble at what was spoken unto the rich glutton; Thou didst receive pleasure in this life: and for this eternal evils succeeded thee after death, changing hands with poor Lazarus, who received evils in this life, and after death enjoyed the pleasures of the other. The rich man, who wanted not abundance of precious wines in this life, wanted a drop of water to cool his tongue in the next; And Lazarus, who here wanted the crumbs of bread that fell from his table, was feasted with the Supper of eternal happiness. The Prophet Jeremias writes that Nabuzardan carried a way▪ the rich Captives unto Babylon, 
Jer. 39  and left the poor in Jerusalem; because the Devil carries away the slays and lovers of riches unto Babylon, which is the confusion of hell, and leaves the poor in spirit in Jerusalem, which is the vision of peace, that they may there enjoy the clear sight of God.  
The felicity of temporal goods blots out of our memories the greatness of the eternal; it makes us forget God, and the happiness of the other life; it blinds those who possess them, busies them wholly in things of the Earth, and gives them that means and opportunities for vices, which the poor have not, who either work or serve their Masters, or pray. Wherefore the enjoying of temporal goods is so dangerous, 
1 Ti. 6.  that St. Paul calls Riches the Snare of the Devil. And if in all Snares there be falsehood, and danger, how false and dangerous must be the Snares of Satan. 
Laer. l. 9 c. 4.  Even Diogenes was ware of this truth, and therefore calls them a Veil of malice and perdition. 
St. Hieron. in Algas. Ep. 84.  St. Jerome says, that anciently there were too notable Proverbs in prejudice of the Rich: The first, That he, who was very rich, could not be a good man; The second, That he, who was rich, had either been a bad man, or was the heir of a bad man; and admonishes us that the name of Rich in the holy Scripture is most commonly taken in an ill sense, and to the contrary in a favourable that of the poor. The truth is, that the holy Scripture is full of Contumelies against the rich of this world, and above all the Son of God, who uttered most notable and fearful expressions against those who abound in temporal goods; and therefore when he taught the Beatitudes, he gave the first of them unto the Poor: and in preaching the Woes he gave the first unto the Rich. And upon another occasion said, it was impossible for the Rich to enter into the Kingdom of heaven. And although he was willing to mitigate so hard a Sentence, yet he said, it was difficult, and so difficult, as might make the rich of the world to tremble; for he assure, us it is easier for a Camel to pass through the eye of a needle, than for a rich man to enter into the Kingdom of heaven. But with God nothing is impossible. From all that which hath been said may be gathered, how worthy of contempt and hatred are all temporal goods, since they deceive us not only of our content in this life, but of our felicity in the other, and even of God himself. What implacable hatred would a faithful and honest Spouse conceive against that Traitor, who counterfeiting the shape and habit of her Husband should violate her Chastity? how would she abhor him, when she knew the injury he had done her in a matter of that importance? In the same manner are we betrayed by temporal felicity, who appearing unto its in the likeness of the true happiness, makes our hearts to adulterate with it, and leave our lawful Spouse and true good indeed, which is God. For certainly there is no perfect felicity but in his service, and compliance with his holy will in this life, that we may enjoy him eternally in the next; and therefore temporal goods, which by their deceit cousin us, and make us lose the eternal, ought not to be loved and followed, but hated as a thousand deaths.     

THE FOURTH BOOK OF THE DIFFERENCE BETWIXT THE TEMPORAL and ETERNAL.  

CAP. I.  
Of the greatness of things Eternal.  
ALthough the littleness and baseness of things temporal be in themselves such as we have already seen, yet unto him who shall consider the greatness and Majesty of the eternal, whereof we now begin to treat, they will appear much less and more contemptible. For such is the greatness of that glory, that St. Austin falls into these speeches; 
Augus. in Man.  If it were requisite every day to suffer torments, or to remain in hell itself for some long time, to the end we might behold Christ in his glory, and enjoy the company of Saints, were it much to suffer what is grievous and painful upon earth, that we might be partakers of so great a happiness? which speech of St. Austin is not to be taken as an exaggeration; as neither that, which is attributed to St. Jerome: That it is a wonder that the stones under the feet of those, who shall be damned, convert not into roses, as an anticipated solace of those evils which they are to suffer: And that to the contrary those under the feet of them, who are to be saved, turn not into thorns to wound and chastise them for their sins, since for so short troubles they are to receive unspeakable joys. This greatness of eternal goodness consists not only in the eternity of their duration, but in their intention also, as being supreme and without limit in their excellency. And therefore we ought not to think much at the suffering of a thousand years' torments, if for them we might obtain those blessings but for one day. Whereupon St. Austin says; Such is the beauty of righteousness, 
Augus. de libero arb. 3.  such the joy of that eternal light of that immutable truth and wisdom, that although we were not to continue in it above one day, yet for so short a time a thousand years in this life, replenished with delights and abundance of all goods temporal, were justly to be despised. For it was not spoken amiss, that Better is one day in thy Courts above a thousand. So that whereas it is commonly said, that for eternal joys we ought to leave the temporal and frail goods of the earth, which are short and transitory, St. Austin says, that if those of heaven were short, and these of earth Eternal, yet we ought to forsake these for those.  
This is confirmed by that which is written by Thomas de Cantiprato, and others; 
Lib. 2. c. 57 N. 67.  That the Devil being demanded by an Exorcist what he would suffer to see God, answered, That he would suffer all that the damned in hell Men and Devils were to suffer until the day of Judgement, only that he might enjoy the sight of him but for some short time. How can we then complain of the short troubles of this life, which are to be recompensed with the clear vision of God for ever, when his professed Enemy would suffer so much only to enjoy it for an insant? Cato having only read that discourse of Socrates concerning immortality, thought it nothing to part with this life, and tear his bowels in pieces, that he might enjoy that eternal liberty of the Soul, freed from the encumbrances and oppressions of the Body. 
Jo. Herol. in Promp. Exem.  Heroldus writes that Friar Jordan, General of the holy Order of the preaching Friars, exorcizing a possessed person, the Devil amongst other answers to his demands, told him, That he had never seen the face of God but only during the twinkling of an eye; and that to see it so much longer he would willingly suffer all the pains of his companions until the day of Judgement. Friar Jordan remained astonished at this answer, and recalling himself a little, he said unto him: Thou hast said well; But declare me his beauty by some similitude or representation. Thou hast moved a foolish question, replied the Spirit; for there is no expressing of it. But to give some satisfaction to thy desire, I say, that if the beauties of all Creatures, Heavens, Earth, Flowers, Pearls, and all other things that can give any delight to the sight, were all comprised in one only thing; if every one of the Stars yielded as much light as the Sun, and the Sun shined as bright as all they together, all this united so together would be in respect of the beauty of God Almighty, as a dark pitchy night in respect of the clearest and brightest day. Where by the way it is to be observed, that the Devils never saw God clearly, as the Angels in glory now behold him, but only by the excellency of their nature attained to some particular and advantageous knowledge of his beauty and divine perfections, and joy, which resulted from that knowledge. And if to enjoy that once again for so short a time they would endure those torments for so long a space, what shall it be to behold him clearly in his glory? Certainly to be roasted, plucked in pieces with pincers, to be burnt alive for a thousand years, were well employed to enjoy that felicity but for a day. What shall it be to possess it for an eternity, when the joy also of each day shall be equivalent to many years? 
Joh. Major. Ex. 14. Ex Coll. Psal. 89.  Wherefore Johannes Major reports that a certain Monk being at Matins with the other Religious of his Monastery, and coming to that verse of the Psalm, where it is said; A thousand years in the presence of God are but as yesterday, which is already past, began to imagine with himself, how it might be possible: and remaining in the Choir (as his manner was) after the end of Matins to perfect his devotions, he humbly besought the Lord to grant him the true understanding of that place; which he had no sooner done, but he perceived a little Bird in the Choir, that with flying up and down before him, by little and little with her most melodious singing insensibly drew him forth of the Church into a Wood not fare off, where perching herself upon a bough, she for some short time, as it seemed to him, continued her music to the unspeakable delight of the Monk, and then flew away, leaving him by her absence no less sad and pensive. But seeing she came no more, he returned back, thinking he had left his Monastery the same morning immediately after Matins, and that it was now about the third hour: but coming to the Convent, which was near the Wood, he found the Gate, by which he was accustomed to enter, to be mured up, and another opened in some other part, where calling upon the Porter, he was demanded Who he was, From whence he came, and What was his business: He answered, that he was the Sacristan of the Church, and that having that morning gone abroad after Matins, he found all things at his return changed. The Porter demanded of him the name of the Abbot, the Prior, the Procurator. He named them all, and wondered he was neither understood nor permitted to enter, and why they feigned not to know those Religious whom he mentioned, and desired to be brought to the Abbot; but coming into his presence, neither the Abbot knew him, nor he the Abbot: whereat the good Monk being much astonished knew not what to say or do. The Abbot asked him his name, and that of his Abbot; and turning the Annals of the Monastery, found it was more than three hundred years since the death of those persons which he named. Whereupon the Monk making a relation of what had happened unto him concerning the Psalm, they acknowledged him, and admitted him as a Brother into their profession, where having received the Sacraments of the Church he with much peace ended his days in our Lord.  
If the pleasure of one sense did so ravish the Soul of this Servant of God, what shall it be, when not only the hearing, but the light, smell, taste, the whole body and soul shall be drowned in joys proportionable to the senses of the one, and power of the other? If the music of a little Bird did so transport him, what shall the music of Angels? what shall the clear vision of God? what shall God himself do, when he makes ostentation, if so may say, of his omnipotency? For as Assuerus, who reigned from India to Aethiopia, over 170 Provinces, made a great Feast for all his Princes, which lasted 181 days: So shall this King of Heaven and Earth make his great Supper of glory, which shall last for all eternity, for the setting forth of his Majesty, and for the honour and entertainment of his Servants: where the joys shall be such, as neither the eye hath seen, nor the ear hath heard, nor hath entered into the heart of man. O baseness of temporal goods, what proportion do they hold with this greatness, since they are so poor, that even time, from whence they have their being, makes them tedious and not to be endured? Who could continue a whole month without other diversion in hearing the choicest music? nay, who could pass a day free from weariness without some change of pleasures? But such is the greatness of those joys, which God hath prepared for them who love and fear him, as we shall still desire them afresh, and they will not cloy us in a whole Eternity.  

§. 2.  
St. Anselme observes this difference betwixt the goods and evils of this life and the other, 
Anselm. lib. de simil.  that in this life neither of them are pure, but mixed and confused. The goods are imperfect, and mingled with many evils; and the evils short, and mingled with some good. But in the other life, as the goods are most perfect and pure without the least touch of any ill, and so can never weary us, (for that were an evil:) so to the contrary those evils of hell, in which there is no good at all, are horrible and above all sufferance.  
Eternal glory therefore is great, both in respect of its purity, being free from any ill, and in respect of its perfection, being highly and excellently good. David said, 
Ps. 102.  That God had removed our sins from us, as far as the East is distant from the West; which he hath not only verified in the guilt of sin, but in the punishment, which is as far removed from the blessed, as Heaven is from Earth. And although the spiritual distance betwixt them be greater than the corporeal, yet that we may from hence form some conception of that also, we will say as much as our weakness is able to attain unto of this. 
Clavius in Sphae. 〈◊〉. 1.  Our famous Mathematician Christopher Clavius says, that from the Sphere of the Moon, which is the lowest Heaven, unto the Earth are one hundred and twenty thousand six hundred and thirty miles: and from the Heaven of the Sun four millions thirty thousand nine hundred and twenty three miles: and from the Firmament or eighth Heaven one hundred sixty one millions eight hundred fourscore and four thousand nine hundred and forty three miles. Here Plato wills the Mathematicians to cease their enquiry; for from hence there is no rule of measuring further; but without all doubt it is much farther from thence to the Empyrial Heaven. For the only thickness of the Starry Sphere is said to contain as much as the whole space betwixt that and the Earth: In so much as if a Millstone were thrown from the highest of the Firmament, and should every hour fall two hundred miles, it would be 90 years before it arrived at the Earth. The Mathematicians also and some learned Interpreters of the holy Scripture affirm that the distance from the Earth unto the highest of the Firmament is less than that from thence to the lowest of the Empyrial Heaven; and therefore conclude, if one should live two thousand years, and every day should travel a hundred miles, he should not in all that time reach the lowest of the Firmament; and if after that he should also travel other two thousand years, he should not reach the highest of it; and from thence four thousand years before he arrived at the lowest of the Empyrial Heaven. O power of the grace of Jesus Christ, which makes us in a moment dispatch so great a journey! That noble Matron who was tormented, and put to death in England, said unto those with grief and honour that beheld her martyrdom, So short is the way which brings us to heaven, that within six hours I shall mount above the Sun and Moon, tread the Stars under my feet, and enter into the Heaven of the Blessed. But there was no need of six hours; one little instant brings the souls of the blessed thither; which being purified from their sins and pains, remain further distant from the one and the other, than Heaven is from Earth. Proportionable unto this distance of place is the advantage, which the greatness of Heaven hath above that of Earth: and the same holds in their blessings. Let us mount then with this consideration thither, and from that height let us disspise all this mutable World, 
Ptolom. in Praefa. Almages.  since even the Gentiles did it. Wherefore Ptolemy said; He is higher than the world, who cares not in whose hands the world is. And Cicero; What humane thing can seem great unto him, 
Tull. in Som. Scip.  unto whom eternity and the greatness of the other world are known. All the earth seems so little unto me, that I am sorry and ashamed of our Empire, with which we have only touched some little part of it. All the Kingdoms of the Earth are but as a point, and unto Boctius seemed but as a point of a point. 
Bar. 3.  But of Heaven Baruch could say, How great is the house of God, how large is the place of his possession! it is great and hath no end, high and immeasurable. So great is the advantage of things eternal above temporal, although they were not eternal. O what fools then are they, who for one point of Earth lose so many leagues of Heaven: who for one short pleasure lose things so immense and durable! O the greatness of the omnipotency and goodness of the divine liberality, which hath prepared such things for the humble and little ones who serve him. St. Austin, whose thoughts were so sublime, and whose understanding was one of the greatest in the world, found himself unable to express them, nay even to think of them. For being desirous to write of Eternal Glory, and taking pen in hand, he beheld in his Chamber a great light, and felt a sweetness so fragrant, as almost transported him; and withal heard a voice which said, Austin, what dost thou mean? dost thou think it possible to number the drops in the Sea, or to grasp the whole compass of the Earth, or to make the Celestial bodies suspend their motion? that which no eyes have seen, wouldst thou behold? that which no ear hath heard, wouldst thou conceive? that which no heart hath attained, nor humane understanding imagined, dost thou think that thou only canst comprehend? What end can that have which is infinite? how can that be measured which is immense? Sooner shall all those impossibilities be possible, than thou understand the least part of that glory, which is enjoyed by the blessed in Heaven. If one, who had been ever bred in an obscure dungeon, and never had seen other light than that of some dim Lamp, were told that above the Earth there was a Sun, which enlightened the whole world, and cast his beams far above a hundred thousand leagues in Circumference, all the discourses which could be made unto such a one, would hardly make him conceive the brightness and beauty of the Sun; much less can the glory of those things of the other world be made to appear unto us, though exemplified by comparisons of the greatest beauty the world affords. So ineffable blessings are contemned by a Sinner, and all to make himself despicable and accursed ..   

§ 3.  
After the same manner the evils and pains of this World are nothing comparable unto those which are eternal; and therefore as the three hundred years enjoying of one heavenly pleasure seemed unto that Servant of God no longer than three hours; so to the contrary three hours of eternal pains will appear unto the damned as three hundred years, and much more: since even of the temporal pains in Purgatory this notable accident is written by St. Antoninus. 
St. Anto. 4. p. §. 4.  A man of an evil life was visited by our Lord with a long infirmity, to the end he might repent and reflect upon his sins; which took effect. But his sickness by continuance grew so grievous and tedious unto him, as he often with great earnestness recommended himself unto God, and besought him to deliver him from the prison of his body. Whereupon an Angel appeared unto him with this choice, either to continue two years sick in that manner he was, and then to go strait to Heaven, or to die instantly, and remain three days in Purgatory. He was not long in his election, but presently chose the latter: and immediately died; but had not been an hour in those pains, when the same Angel appeared unto him again, and after some encouragement and consolation demanded if he knew him; he answered, No. I am, said he, the Angel who brought thee that choice from Heaven, either to come hither, or to remain in thy infirmity for two years: To whom the afflicted soul replied; It is impossible thou shouldest be the Angel of the Lord: for good Angels cannot lie; and that Angel told me, I should remain in this place but three days; and it is now so many years, that I have suffered those most bitter torments, and can yet see no end of my misery. Know then, said the Angel, that it is not yet an hour, since thou left thy body, and the rest of the three days yet remain for thee to suffer; To whom the Soul replied, Pray unto the Lord for me, that he look not upon my ignorance in making so foolish a choice, but that out of his Divine mercy he will give me leave to return once more unto life, and I will not only patiently suffer those two years, but as many as it shall please him to impose upon me. His Petition was granted, and being restored unto life, his experience of Purgatory made all the pains of his infirmity seem light unto him; in so much as he endured them not only with patience but joy. Much like unto this (as appears in the Chronicles of the Minorits) happened unto a religious person of the Order of St. Francis, 
Chron. S. Fran. 2. p. l. 4. c. 8.  who demanded the same of God Almighty in regard of the much trouble he put his religious brebrens unto, as also for what he suffered himself. An Angel appeared unto him, and gave him his choice either of suffering one day in Purgatory, or remaining a whole year longer sick as he was. He made choice to die presently; and had scarce been one hour in Purgatory; when he began to complain of the Angel, for having cozened him. The Angel appeared unto him again, certifying him, that his body was not yet buried because there was one only hour past since his death. He gave him his choice the second time. His Soul was presently reunited to the body, and he risen out of his Bed to the great astonishment of all. If this than pass in Purgatory, it will not be less in hell; and if an hour seem a year, which contains above eleven thousand hours, an eternity in hell will appear eleven thousand eternities. O how dearly bought are the short pleasures of the senses, which are paid for with so long and so innumerable torments! For if pain should last no longer than the pleasure that deserved it, it would seem to those, who are to feel it, ten thousand times longer. What will it do being eternal? O pains of this World, infirmities, griefs and troubles, how ridiculous are ye compared with those which are eternal: since the time which you endure is but short, and it is not much that you can afflict us; nay, if by temporal punishments we may escape the eternal, you are most happy unto us, and aught to be received with a thousand welcomes.    

CAP. II.  
The greatness of the eternal honour of the Just.  
LEt us now in particular consider the greatness of those goods of the other life, in which are contained Honours, Riches, Pleasures, and all the blessings both of soul and body; of each whereof we shall say something apart, and will begin with that of Honour. Certainly the reward of honour, which shall be conferred upon the Just in the other life, is to be wonderful great; First, in respect, that amongst all the appetites of a reasonable creature, that of honour is the most potent and prevalent. Secondly, because our Saviour exhorts us unto humility as the way by which we are to enter into glory, and promiseth honours and exaltations unto the humble; and there is no question but in that place of satiety, remuneration, and accomplishment of all, that can be desired, the honour of the Servants of Christ, and followers of his humility, shall be inexpressible, of which there are many promises in holy Scripture. He himself says, That his Father will honour them in Heaven; and David sings; Thou hast crowned him with glory and honour; and Ecclesiasticus (as it is applied by the Church) A Crown of Gold upon his head graven with the seal of holiness, and the glory of honour. Besides, all the tribute, which those who serve God are able to pay him, is only to laud and honour him. His eternal joy, happiness, and all his  perfections are so excellent, that they can receive no addition; only this glory and honour, as they are an exterior good, are capable of augmentation. And this is that which he receives from the Saints who serve him: With which God is so pleased, that he pays them again in the same money, and honours those who honoured him; and this honour arrives at that height, that Christ himself expresses it in these words; 
Apoc. 3.  He who shall overcome, I will give him to sit with me in my Throne, even at I have overcome, and have sitten with the Father in his Throne. At the greatness of which promise a Doctor being amazed, cries out; 
Bell. l. 1. de aterna felici. c. 4. infine.  How great shall be that glory, when a just Soul shall in the presence of an infinite number of Angels sit in the same Throne with Christ, and shall by the just Sentence of God be praised for a Conqueror over the World, and the invisible Powers of Hell! and how shall that Soul rejoice, when it shall see itself, being freed from all danger and troubles; to triumph over all its enemies! What can it desire more than to be partaker of all those divine goods, and even to accompany Christ in the same Throne? O how cheerfully do they combat upon Earth: O how easily do they bear all afflictions for Christ, who with a lively faith and certain hope apprehend so sublime honours! Certainly with much reason may the happiness of Saints be called by the name of Glory, since the honour which they receive is so transcendent. What an honour shall that be, when the Just in the other lise shall receive no less a recompense of his holiness than God himself? The nature of honour is to be a reward of virtue: and by how much greater the reward is, which a powerful King bestows upon some valorous Captain, by so much greater is the honour which he confers upon him. What honour shall it then be, when God shall give unto those who have served him, not only to tread upon the Stars, to inhabit the Palaces of Heaven, to be Lords of the World, but transcending all that is created, and finding amongst his whole riches nothing sufficient to reward them, shall give them his own infinite essence to enjoy, not for a day, but to all eternity? The highest honour which the Romans bestowed upon their greatest Captains, was to grant them a day of triumph, and in that permission to wear a Crown of grass or leaves, which withered the day following. O most honoured virtue of Christians, whole triumph shall be eternal, and whose never fading Crown is God himself! O most happy Diadem of the Just, O most precious Garland of the Saints, which is of as great worth and value, as is God Sapores King of the Persians was most ambitious of honour, and would therefore be called the Brother of the Sun and Moon, and Friend to the Planets. This vain Prince erected a most glorious Throne, which he placed on high, and thereon fat in great Majesty, having under his feet a certain Globe of glass, whereon were artificially represented the motions of the Sun, the Moon and Stars: and to sit crowned above this fantastical Heaven he esteemed as a great honour. What shall be then the honour of the just, who truly and really shall sit above the Sun, the Moon, and Firmament, crowned by the hand of God himself? If the applause of men and the good opinion which they have from others be esteemed an honour, what shall be the applause of Heaven, and the good opinion not only of Saints and Angels, but of God himself, whose judgements cannot err? David took it for a great honour, that the Daughter of his King was judged as a reward of his valour. God surpasses this; and honours so much the services of his Elect, that he pays their merits with no less a reward than himself. O happy labour of the victorious, and glorious combat of the just against the vices and temptations of the World, whose victory deserves so inestimable a Crown! Clemens Alexandrinus reports that there were in Persia three Mountains; He, who came to the first, heard as it were a fare off the noise and voice of them who were fight; he who attained at the second, heard perfectly the cries and clamours of Soldiers engaged in the fury of a Battle; but he who attained unto the third heard nothing but the joyful acclamations of a victory. This happens really with the just, who are likewise to pass three mystical Mountains, which are Reason, Grace, and Glory. He who arrives at the knowledge of Reason, gives an alarm unto Vice, which he combats and overcomes by Grace, and in Glory celebrates his victory with the joy and applause of all the Inhabitants of heaven, and is crowned as a Conqueror with such a Crown, as we have already spoken of.  

§. 2.  
Besides this, he who is most known, and is praised and celebrated for good and virtuous by the greatest multitude, is esteemed the most glorious and honourable person. But all this World is a solitude in respect of the Citizens of Heaven, where innumerable Angels approve and praise the virtuous actions of the Saints; and they likewise are nothing, and all creatures, Men and Angels, but as a solitary Wilderness in respect of the Creator. What comparison betwixt that honour which may be given by some particular Kingdom, or by all Europe, and that which shall be heaped upon the just by all the blessed Men and Angels: nay even by the damned and Devils in the Day of Judgement? What is the approbation of a created understanding in respect of the Divine? What man so glorious upon earth, whose worth and valour hath been known to all? Those who were born before him could not know him; no more shall many of those who are to follow him. But the Predestinate in heaven shall be known by all past and to come, by all the Angels and by the King of Men and Angels. Humane fame is founded upon the applause of mortal men, who besides being less than Angels, may be deceived, may lie, and are most part of them sinners and wicked. How fare then must that honour exceed it, which is conferred upon the Just by the holy Angels, and by those blessed and pure Souls, who cannot be deceived themselves, nor will deceive us? If we esteem it more to be honoured by the Kings of the Earth, by the Great men of the World, and by the Learned in Universities, than by the barbarous and ignorant Peasants of some poor Village, how ought we then to value the honour, rwhich shall be bestowed upon us by the Saints in Heaven, who are the Kings and Grandees of the Court of God, and are all replenished with most perfect and divine wisdom? All the honour of men is ridiculous, and his ambition no wiser who seeks it, then, as St. Anselme says, if one worm should desire to be honoured by another. 
Lib. de Sim. c. 65.  All the Earth is but as a Village, or rather as some poor Cottage in respect of Heaven. Let us not therefore strive for a name upon Earth, but that our names may be written in Heaven; in comparison whereof it is too much to say, that the Earth is a point, as Seneca called it: 
Lib. 2. de Consol.  and therefore Bottius proves, that it is less, and says; If from this little particle of Earth you shall take what Seas, Lakes; and uninhabited places full of wild beasts take up, you shall leave unto men but a narrow dwelling. Being therefore penned up in so small a point of a point, how canst thou think to extend thy renown and publish thy name? Compare the honour of Heaven with that of Earth, and thou shalt find the difference betwixt them to be as great as is their distance. Of this incomparable honour in Heaven, have been some revelations of great comfort. It was revealed to St. Gertrude, that, as often as St. Joseph was named here upon Earth, all the blessed in Heaven made a low bow. What greater honour can be expected? what comparison can all the expressions of respect, and adorations of all the men in this World have with one only inclination, and reverence expressed by one Saint of Heaven? What then shall be a reverence exhibited by them altogether? The Church says of St. Martin, that at his entrance into Heaven he was received with Celestial hymns, that is, with songs, which the blessed sung in praise of his prowess and victory. If Saul thought the honour too much, which was given to David by the Damsels, when they celebrated his Victory in their songs, What shall it be to be celebrated by all the Saints and Angels in Celestial responsories? 
Bellar. de aeter. felic. lib. 4. c. 2.  Cardinal Bellarmine conceives that when a Servant of God enters into Heaven, he shall be received with such music, all the blessed in Heaven often repeating those words in the Gospel; Well done good servant and true; because thou hast been faithful in a few things, thou shalt be placed over much; Enter into thy Lord's joy; which words they shall repeat in Quires. This shall be a Song of Victory, an honour above all the honours of the Earth, conferred by so great, so wise, so holy, and so authentic persons. Whereupon St. Austin said, 
Lib. 22. de Civit. c. 30.  There shall be the true glory, where none shall be praised by the error or flattery of the praiser; and there the true honour, which shall neither be denied to the worthy, nor granted unto the unworthy.   

§ 3.  
Although the honour and applause, which the Just receive in Heaven from the Citizens of that holy City, be incomparable, yet that honour and respect, with which God himself shall treat them, is far above it. Christ our Redeemer to express it uses no meaner a similitude, than that of the honour done by the Servant unto his Lord: and therefore says, that God himself shall, as it were, serve the Blessed in Heaven at their Table. It is much amongst men to be seated at the Table of a Prince; but for a King to serve his Vassal, as if he himself were his Servant, who ever heard it? Certainly with much reason David said unto God, That his Servants were too much honoured. And the same David, when he caused Miphiboseth (although the Grandchild of a King, and the Son of an excellent Prince, unto whom David ought his life) to sit at his Table, he thought he did him a singular honour: but this favour never extended to wait on him. Aman, 
Esther 6.  who was the most proud and ambitious man in the world could not think of a greater honour from King Assuerus than to ride through the Streets mounted upon the Kings own horse, and that the greatest man in the Kingdom should lead him by the bridle; but that the King himself should perform that service, never entered into his imagination; The honour which God bestows upon the Just exceeds all humane imagination, who not satisfied with crowning all the Blessed with his own divinity, giving himself to be possessed and enjoyed by them for all eternity, does also honour their victories and heroic actions with new Crowns: 
Lib. 10. Apum.  Thomas de Cantiprato writes of Alexander, brother to St. Matilde, and Son to the King of Scots, that he appeared unto a certain Monk with two Crowns, and being demanded why he had them doubled; he answered, This which I wear upon my head is common unto me with all the blessed, but that which I carry in my hand is given me for renouncing my Kingdom upon Earth. But above all, the Martyrs, Virgins, and Doctors shall appear most glorious, whom God shall honour with certain particular marks of honour, by which they shall be known and distinguished from the rest of the Blessed: which seals and marks shall be imprinted in their Souls, like the indelible characters of Baptism, Confirmation and Priesthood, which are to endure for all eternity. Of the Doctors the Prophet Daniel says, They shall shine like the Stars in the Firmament: giving us to understand, that as the Stars excel the other parts of the Firmament by the advantage of their light, so the Doctors shall be known in Heaven by a more glorious splendour, which they shall cast from them. And if the least Saint in Heaven shall shine seven times more than the Sun, what shall that light be, which shall outshine so many Suns? 
Apoc. 21.  Of the Martyrs St. John saith, That they went clothed in white, carrying palms in their hands in sign of victory. For as Kings are honoured by wearing Purple, and holding Sceptres, so Conquerors by their candid Garments and Palms. 
Apoc. 21.  The same St. John also says of Virgins, That the name of Christ and his Father shall be imprinted in their foreheads: which shall be as a token to distinguish them from the rest of Saints, conformable unto that of the Prophet Isaias, who says that a more noble and excellent name shall be given to Virgins, than unto the rest of the Sons of God: by which name St. Augustin says is meant some particular Devise, which shall distinguish them from the rest, as the more eminent men are distinguished from others by their several Titles of honour. Besides this, those members of the Blessed, by which they have more specially served God or suffered for him, 
Aug. 22. de Civit. Dei.  shall (as St. Austin notes) cast forth some particular light and splendour: so as every wound, which St. Stephen received from his stoning, shall cast forth a particular beam of light. And with what a Garment of glory shall St. Bartholomew be clad, who was flayed from head to foot? In the like manner St. James Intercisus, who was hacked in pieces member by member for the faith of Christ. Even the Confessors in those Senses, which they have mortified for Christ, shall have a particular Enamel of light. St. John the Evangelist was showed to St. Matilde, with a particular splendour and glory in his eyes, for not daring to lift them up to look upon our Blessed Lady, when he lived with her, for the great esteem and reverence he bore unto her. There is no kind of honour, which shall not then be given to the heroical acts of virtue performed by the Saints in this life, which shall be to be read in the particular persons of the predestinate; so as there shall be no necessity of Histories, Annals, or Statues, to make known or eternize their memories, as here in worldly honours, which being short, transitory, and of small endurance have need of something to preserve them in the memory of men. For this the Romans erected Statues unto those, whom they intended to honour, because being mortal there should something remain after death to make their persons and services, which they had done to the Commonwealth, known to posterity. But in Heaven there is no need of this artifice; because those who are there honoured are immortal, and shall have in themselves some character engraved as an evident and clear testimony of their noble Victories and Achievements. The honour of the Just in Heaven depends not, like that of the Earth, upon accidents and reports, nor is exposed to dangers, or measured by the discourse of others, but in itself contains its own glory and dignity. 
Cuiac. ad tit. de dignit.  The dignities in the Roma Empire, as may be gathered from the Civil Law, were four, expressed by these four Titles, Perfectissimus, Clariffimus, Spectabilis, & Illustris, most Perfect, most Clear, Specious, and Illustrious. These Honours were only in name and reputation, not in substance and truth. For He was often called most perfect, who was indiscreet, foolish, passionate, and imperfect: He most clear, who had neither clearness nor serenitity of understanding, but was infected with dark and obscure vices. Those specious and beautiful, from whom a man would fly twenty leagues rather than behold them; and those illustrious, who were enveloped in the darkness of vice and ignorance without the least light of virtue. That we may therefore see the difference betwixt the honours of Heaven, and those of the Earth, which are as fare distant from one another, as truth from falsehood, we must know that in Heaven the Blessed are not only called most Perfect, but really are so both in soul and body without the least imperfection or defect: are not only called most Clear, but are so, each one being adorned with that gift of brightness, that they shall cast out beams more clear than the Sun; and if the Sun be the most bright thing in nature, what shall they be, who seaventimes outshine it? Nor shall they be only said to be spectabilis or specious, and worthy to be looked upon, but their beauty and comeliness shall be such, as shall not only draw the eyes of all to behold them, but shall stir up their affections to love and admire them. In the like manner they shall not be titularly, but really Illustrious: for every one with his own light shall be sufficient to illustrate and enlighten many Worlds. If one only false title of those, which are truly enjoyed by the Blessed, were capable of making the Roman Empire to respect and honour the possessor, what shall the truth and substance of them all do in Heaven? 
1 Mac. 2.  With reason did Mathathias call the glory of this World dung and filth; because all honours and dignities of the Earth in respect of those in Heaven are base, vile, and despicable. What greater honour, than to be Friends of God, Sons, Heirs, and Kings in the Realm of Heaven? 
Apoc. 4.  St. John in his Apocalyps sets forth this honour of the blessed in the 24 Elders, who were placed about the Throne of God, and in that Honour and Majesty, as every one was seared in his presence, and that upon a Throne, clothed in white and lucid Garments, in sign of their perpetual joy, and crowned with a crown of Gold in respect of their dignities. To be covered in the presence of Kings is the greatest honour they confer upon the chiefest Grandees; but God causes his Servants to be crowned and seated upon Thrones before him: and our Saviour in the Day of Judgement makes his Disciples his fellow Judges.   

§. 4.  
Certainly greater honour cannot be imagined than that of the Predestinate. For if we look upon him, who honours, It is God; If with what: With no less joy than his own Divinity, and other most sublime gifts; If before whom: Before the whole Theatre of Heaven now, and in the Day of Judgement before Heaven, Earth, Angels, Men and Devils; If the continuance: For all eternity; If the titles, which he gives them, it is the truth and substance of the things, not the empty word and vain name. By all this may appear the cause, why eternal happiness, being a mass and an assembly of all goods imaginable, yet is called (by way of excellence) by the name of Glory; because that although it contain all pleasures, contents, joys, riches, and what can be desired, yet it seems the Glory and honour, which God bestows upon the Just, exceeds all the other. The honour which God gives in Heaven to glorious Souls, may be seen by that which he gives to their wormeaten bones upon Earth, whereof St. Chrysostom speaks these words. Where is now the Sepulchre of the great Alexander? 
In 2. ad Corinth. Hom. 26.  show it me I beseech thee, and tell me the day whereon he died. The Sepulchers of the Servants of Christ are so famous that they possess the most Royal and Imperial City of the World, and the day, whereon they died, is known and observed as festival by all. The Sepulchre of Alexander is unknown even to his own Countrymen; but that of these is known to the very Barbarians. Besides the Sepulchers of the Servants of Christ excel in splendour and magnificence the Palaces of Kings, not only in respect of the beauty and sumptuousness of their buildings, wherein they also exceed, but, which is much more, in the reverence and joy of those who repair unto them. For even he, who is clothed in Purple, frequents their Tombs, and humbly kisses them, and laying aside his Majesty and Pomp supplicates their prayers and assistance with God Almighty, he who wears the Diadem taking a Fisherman and a Maker of Tents for his Patrons and Protectors. What miracles hath not God wrought by the Relics of his Servants, and what prodigies have not been effected by their bodies? St. chrysostom writes of St. Juventius, 
Chrysost. in Serm. de Juven. & Max. Sever. in Ep. ad Socrum.  and St. Maximus, that their bodies after death cast forth such beams of light, that the eyes of those, who were present, were not able to suffer them. Sulpicius Severus writes of St. Martin, that his dead body remained in a manner glorified, that his flesh was pure as Crystal, and white as milk. What wonders did God work by the bodies of St. Edward the King, and St. Francis Xavier, preserving them incorrupted for so many years? and if he do those great things with their Bodies, who are under the Earth, what will he do with their Souls, which are above the Heavens, and what with them both, when their glorious Bodies shall arise, and after the Day of Judgement, united to their Souls, enter in triumph into the holy and eternal City of God?    

CAP. III.  
Of the Riches of the eternal Kingdom of Heaven.  
THe Riches in Heaven are no less than the Honours, though those, as hath been said, are inestimable. There can be no greater riches than to want nothing which is good, nor to need any thing which can be desired; and in that blessed life no good shall fall, nor no desire be unsatisfied. And if, as the Philosophers say, he is not rich who possesseth much, but he who desires nothing, There being in Heaven no desire unaccomplished, there must needs be great riches. It was also a position of the Stoics, That he was not poor who wanted, but he who was necessitated. Since then in the Celestial Kingdom there is necessity of nothing, most rich is he who enters into it. By reason of these Divine Riches Christ our Saviour when he speaks in his Parables of the Kingdom of Heaven, doth often express it under Names and Enigmas of things that are rich; sometimes calling it the Hidden Treasure, and sometimes the Precious Pearl, and other times the Lost Drachma. For if Divine happiness consist in the eternal possession of God, what riches may be compared with his who enjoys him, and what inheritance to that of the Kingdom of Heaven? What Jewel more precious than the Divinity, and what Gold more pure than the Creator of Gold and all things precious, who gives himself for a Possession and Riches unto the Saints, to the end they should abhor those Riches which are temporal, if by them the eternal are endangered? Let not therefore those who are to die to morrow afflict themselves for that which may perish sooner than they. Let them not toil to enjoy that which they are shortly to leave; nor let them with more fervour pray for those things which are transitory, than those which are eternal, preferring the Creature before the Creator, not seeking God for what he is, but for what he gives. Wherefore St. Austin says, 
Aug. in Psal. 52.  God will be served gratis, will be beloved without interest, that is, purely for himself, and not for any thing without himself; and therefore he who in invokes God to make him rich, does not invoke God, but that which he desires should come unto him; for what is invocation but calling something unto him? wherefore when thou shalt say; My God give me riches, thou dost not desire that God but riches should come unto thee; for if thou hadst invoked God, he would have come unto thee, and been thy riches; but thou desiredst to have thy Coffers full, and thy heart empty, and God fills not Chests but breasts.  

§ 2.  
Besides the possession of God, it imports us much to frame a conception of this Kingdom of Heaven, which is that of the Just, where they shall reign with Christ eternally, whose riches must needs be immense, since they are to be Kings of so great and ample a Kingdom. The place then which the Blessed are to inhabit is called she Kingdom of Heaven, because it is a most large Region, and much greater than can perhaps fall under the capacity of our understanding. And if the Earth compared with Heaven be but a point, and yet contain so many Kingdoms, what shall that be which is but one Kingdom, and yet extended over the whole Heavens? How poor and narrow a heart must that Christian have, who confines his love to things present, sweeting and toiling for a small part of the goods of this World, which itself is so little? why does he content himself with some poor patch of the Earth, when he may be Lord of the whole Heavens? Although this Kingdom of God be so great and spacious, yet it is not dispeopled, but as full of Inhabitants of all Nations and conditions, as if it were a City or some particular House. There (as the Apostle said) are many thousands of Angels, an infinite number of the Just, even as many as have died since Abel: and thither also shall repair all who are to die unto the end of the World, and after judgement shall there remain for ever invested in their glorious bodies. There shall inhabit the Angelical Spirits distinguished with great decency into their Nine Orders, unto whom shall correspond Nine others of the Saints, Patriarches, Prophets, Apostles, Martyrs, Confessors, Pastors & Doctors, Priests and Levites, Monks and Hermits, Virgins and other holy Women. This populous City shall not be inhabited with mean and base People, but with Citizens so noble, rich, just, and discreet, that all of them shall be most holy and wise Kings. How happy shall it be to live with such persons? The Queen of Saba only to see Solomon came from the end of the Earth; and to see Titus Livius Nations and Provinces far distant came to Rome. To behold a King issue out of his Palace all the People flock together. What shall it then be not only to see, but to live and reign with so many Angels, and converse with so many eminent and holy Men? If only to see St. Anthony in the Desert men left their Houses and Countries, what joy shall it be to discourse and converse with so many Saints in Heaven? If there should now descend from thence one of the Prophets or Apostles, with what earnestness and admiration would every one strive to see and hear him? In the other World we shall hear and see them all. St. Roman at the sight of one Angel when he was a Gentile left the world and his life to become a Christian. How admirable shall it then be to see thousand of thousands in all their beauty and greatness, and so many glorious bodies of Saints in all their lustre? If one Sun be sufficient to clear up the whole World here below, what joy shall it be to behold those innumerable Sum in that Region of light?  
From this multitude of Inhabitants, the place of glory is not only called the Kingdom of Heaven, but the City of God. It is called a Kingdom for its immense greatness, and a City for its great beauty and population. It is not like other Kingdoms and Provinces which contain huge Deserts, inaccessible Mountains, and thick Woods: nor is it divided into many Cities and Villages distant one from another; but this Kingdom of God, although a most spacious Region, is all one beautiful City. Who would not wonder if all Spain or Italy were but one City, and that as beautiful as Rome in the time of Augustus Caesar, who found it of Brick, and left it of Marble? What a sight were that of Chaldaea, if it were all a Babylon; or that of Syria, if all a Jerusalem? What shall then be the Celestial City of Saints, whose greatness possesses the whole Heavens: and is as the holy Scripture describes it (to exaggerate the riches of the Saints) all of Gold and precious Stones? The Gates pf this City were, as St. John says, one entire Pearl, and the foundations of the Walls Jasper, Saphire, Chalcedon, Emerald, Topaz, Jacinth, Amethyst, and other most precious Stones; The Streets of fine Gold, so pure, as it seemed Crystal, joining in one substance the firmness of Gold and transparency of Chryftal, and the beauty both of one and the other.  
If all Rome were of Saphire, how would it amaze the world? how marvellous then will the holy City be, which though extended over so many millions of leagues, is all of Gold, Pearl, and precious Stones, or, to say better, of a matter of fare more value, and peopled with such a multitude of beautiful Citizens, as are as fare above any imaginable number, as the capacity of the City is above any imaginable measure? Some famous Mathematicians say of die Empyrial Heaven, that it is so great, that if God should allow unto every one of the blessed a greater space than the whole Earth, yet there would remain as much more to give unto others; and that the capaciousness of this Heaven is so great, that it contains more than ten thousand and fourteen millions of miles. What wonder will it be to see a City so great of so precious matter? The Divines confess the capaciousness of this Heaven to be immense, but are more willing to admire it, than bold to measure it. 
Joan. Jailer in suo Peregrino.  Howsoever there wants not one, who says, that if God should make each grain of sand upon the Seashore as big as the whole Earth, they would not fill the Concave of the Empyrial Heaven;) and yet this Holy City possesseth all that space, and is all composed of matter far more beautiful and precious, than Gold, Pearl, and Diamonds. For certain our thoughts cannot conceive so great riches and wonders; for which we ought to undergo all the pains and necessities of this World. St. Francis of Assisium being afflicted with a grievous pain of his eyes, in so much as he could neither sleep, 
Chron. Frat. Min. p. 1. c. 60.  nor take any rest, and at the same time molested by the Devil, who filled his Cell with Rats, which with their Careers and noise added much unto his pain, with great patience gave thanks unto the Lord that he had so gently chastised him, saying, My Lord Jesus Christ I deserve greater punishment; but thou like a good Shepherd suffer me not to stray from thee. Being in this meditation he heard a voice, which said unto him: Francis, if all the Earth were of Gold, and all the Rivers of Balsam, and all the Rocks of precious Stones, wouldst thou not say that this were a great treasure? Know that a treasure, which exceeds Gold as fare as Gold does Dirt, Balsam Water, or Precious-stones Pebbles, remains as a reward for thy infirmity, if thou be content and bear it with patience. Rejoice Francis; for this treasure is Celestial glory, which is gained by tribulations. Certainly we have reason to suffer here all pains and poverty whatsoever, since we are to receive in glory so much the greater riches. Wherefore we ought to lift up our souls, and weaning our hearts from the frail felicity of these temporal goods of the Earth, to say with David, Glorious things are said of thee City of God. So did Fulgentius, who entering Rome when it was yet in its lustre, and beholding the greatness, beauty, and marvellous Architecture of it, said with admiration; O Celestial Jerusalem, how beautiful must thou be, if Terrestrial Rome be such! A shadow of this was showed unto St. Josaphat, whose History is written by St. John Damascen. 
In vita Josaph. & Barl.  St: Josaphat being in profound prayer prostrate upon the earth was overtaken with a sweet sleep, in which he saw two men of grave demeanour, who carried him through many unknown Countries unto a Field full of flowers and plants of rare beauty, laden with fruit never before seen. The leaves of the trees moved with a soft and gentle wind yielded a pleasant sound, and breathed forth a most sweet odour; there were placed many Seats of Gold and precious Stones, which shined with a new kind of brightness; and a little Brook of Crystal water refreshed the air, and pleased the sight with a most agreeable variety. From thence he was brought into a most beautiful City, whose Walls were of transparent Gold, the Towers and Battlements were of Stones of inestimable value, the Streets and places shone with Celestial beams of light: And there passed up and down bright Armies of Angels and Seraphins, chanting such songs as were never heard by mortal ears. Amongst other he heard a voice, which said, This is the repose of the Just, this the joy of those who have given a good account of their lives unto God. But all this is no more than a dream and a shadow in comparison of the truth, greatness, and riches of that Celestial Court. In regard that all the Blessed together with Christ are to reign in this most rich City and, Kingdom, how great shall the riches be? who was ever so rich as to have at the entrance of his House a massy large piece of Gold two or three yards long? What riches will those be of Heaven? because all the Kingdom of Heaven is to be of pure Gold, all the Streets, and all the Houses of that Holy City; and not only Gold, but more than Gold. The holy Scripture to make us on one part understand the riches of this Kingdom of God, and on the other part to know that they are of a higher and more excellent nature than those of the Earth, expresses them with the similitude of the riches of this World, as Gold, Pearl and precious Stones, because by these names we understand things of great wealth and value: but withal sets them forth for such as are not to be found upon earth; so as when it speaks of Pearls, it says, they were so great as they served for the Gates of a City: when it speaks of Emeralds and Topaz's, it makes them to suffice for the foundatian of high Walls and Turrets; when of Gold, it makes it transparent as (Glass or Crystal. All this is to signify that in Heaven there are not only greater riches, but of a more sublime and high quality than ours upon Earth. And with reason is that Holy City called the Kingdom of Heaven, to let us know, that the same advantage, that Heaven hath above Earth, the same have Celestial honours, riches, and joys above those which are here below. If the whole Earth is no more than a point in respect of the Heavens, what can those short and corruptible riches be in respect of the eternal?   

§ 3.  
Of those incomparable riches the Blessed are not only to be Lords but Kings, as appears in many places of holy Scripture. Neither is the Celestial Treasure ●or this Kingdom of Heaven less or poorer by having so many Lords and Kings. It is not like the Kingdoms on Earthy; which permit but one King at once, and if divided become of less power and Majesty; but is of such condition, that it is wholly possessed by all in general, and by each one in particular, like the Sun which warms all and every one, and not one less, because it warms many. The effects of riches are much greater and more noble in Heaven, than they can be upon Earth. Wealth may serve us here to maintain our power, honours, and delights: but all the Gold in the world cannot free us from weakness, infamy, and pain. The power of a rich King can reach no further than to Command his Vassals; and those who disobey him he may either chastise with imprisonment or death, and is therefore feared and respected by them. But all this power is invalid without the assistance of his Subjects. For what will it avail a Prince to command such a City to be defended, if the Soldiers within have a mind to deliver it? And therefore a certain Jester of Philip the Second King of Spain demanded of him, If all should say No unto what your Majesty commands, what was to be done? giving him to understand that his power depends upon others. The power of a Monarch depends not only upon the will of his Subjects, but the Walls of his Fortresses, Arms, Instruments of War, and many other things; so as the people depend only upon one man, which is the Prince: but the Prince upon many men and matters, in so much as many rich Kings have been seen without power, as Croesus, Andronicus, and others, who were not able to defend themselves with all their riches from their own Vassals. Witness Domitian, Commodus, Heliogabolus and Julius Caesar. But the power of the Blessed depends of no other power nor man; 
Ansel de Simil. c. 52.  which, as St. Anselm says, shall be so great, as no force or resistance shall withstand it. It a Saint have a mind to remove a Mountain from one place to another, he shall do it with as much ease, as we remove our eyes from one part unto another. Neither is this a wonder. For even the faithful in this life according to the promise of Christ have done it, as is written of St. Gregorius Thaumaturgus, and some others. And if Angels, nay Devils have this power, the Blessed shall not be denied it. Concerning honour, the richest Princes can only make their Vassals to adore them upon the knee, and do them other outward reverence, but cannot hinder them from murmuring in their absence, or from observing their actions, and interpreting them as they please. They have many flatterers, which praise them with their tongues, and scorn them in their hearts; and for the most part they are fare fewer, who praise, than despise them; for there are but few, who discourse with them, but many who discourse of them; and therefore few who praise them in presence, and many who censure them in absence. Concerning pleasures, it is true that Princes are not content with ordinary delights, and therefore provide themselves of magnificent Shows, costly Recreations, exquisite Comedies, pleasant Gardens, Woods for hunting, and are all clothed splendidly. But none of those can make a Calenture not to afflict them, or that the pains of the head, stomach, or gout do not molest them, or that cares and fears do not break their sleep.  
No gold or money can secure the goods of this World, or free them from imperfections. This only is to be had in Heaven, where their power is so free from weakness, that one only Angel without Army, Guns, Swords, 
4 Reg. 19  or Lance could destroy at once 180000 men. with what speed and facility do Saints secure their devotes, who invoke them, without impediment either from the distance of place, or hindrance from the violence of Tyrants? How complete then shall be the honour of the Blessed, since even the Devils shall reverence them? Nay even now many who despised them living, seeing the many miracles, which God hath wrought by their intercession, have honoured them after death. The pleasures also are pure and true, without mixture of pain or grief, as we shall see in the proper places. Besides, it is to be considered that the great riches of the Saints are not like those of the Kings of the Earth, drawn from the tributes imposed upon their Vassals, which though just, yet are not free from this ill condition, that what enricheth the Prince impoverisheth the Subject. The riches in Heaven have no such blemishes; they are burdensome to none; and what is given to the Servants of Christ who reigns in Heaven, is not taken from any.    

CAP. IU.  
Of the greatness of Eternal Pleasures.  
HOnour, Profit, and Pleasures are distinct goods upon Earth, and are rarely found together. Honour is seldom a companion of profit, and profit of pleasure; And so the sick man drinks his Purge, because it is profitable how bitter soever. Besides, the pleasures or the world are for the most part mixed with some shame, and oftentimes with infamy. They are costly and expensive; we cannot entertain our pleasures without diminishing our wealth. It is not so in eternal goods, in which to be honest is to be profitable, and to be profitable delectable. Eternal honours are accompanied with immense riches, and they are both attended by pleasures without end. All this is signified by the Lord, when he received the faithful Servant into glory, when he says, Well done good servant and true: because thou hast been faithful in a few things, I will place thee over many; Enter into the joy of thy Lord. In these words he first honours him, commending him for a good and faithful Servant; then enriches him, delivering many things into his hands: and so admits him into the joy and pleasure of his Lord; signifying by this manner of expression the greatness of this joy, not saying, that this joy should enter in to him, but that he should enter into joy, and into no other but that of his Lord. So great is the joy of that Celestial Paradise, that it wholly fills and embraces the blessed Souls, which enter into Heaven, as into an immense Sea of pleasure and delight. The joys of the Earth enter into the hearts of those who possess them, but fill them not, because the capacity of man's heart is greater than they can satisfy. But the joys of Heaven receive the Blessed into themselves, and fill and overflow them in all parts. Their glory is like an Ocean of delights, into which the Saints enter as a Sponge into the Sea, which filling its whole capacity, the water surrounds and compasses it all about. Whereupon St. Anselme says; 
Ansel. ca 71. de Simil.  Joy shall be within and without, Joy above and below, Joy round about on every side, and all parts full of joy. The same immensity of joy the Lord signified when he said by Isaias, Behold I create Jerusalem an exultation, 
Isai. 65.  and her people a joy. It is much to be noted that he says not, I create a rejoicing for Jerusalem, or in Jerusalem, nor a joy in or for its people, but by a particular mystery I make Jerusalem that it shall be all an exultation, and its people all a joy. He speaks in this manner to set forth the greatness of his copious joy, with which that holy City, and her Inhabitants shall be as it were encompassed and overwhelmed. For as a plate of iron in the middle of a Furnace is so wholly enkindled and penetrated by fire, that it seems fire itself, and contains the full heat of the Furnace: So a blessed Soul in Heaven is so replenished with that Celestial joy, that it may not only be said to be joyful, but joy itself.  
The multitude of joys in Heaven is joined with their greatness: and so great they are, that the very lest of them sufficient to make us forget the greatest contents of the Earth; and so many they are, as that, though a thousand times shorter, yet they would exceed all temporal pleasures though a thousand times longer; but joining the abundance of those eternal joys with their immense greatness, that eternal B iss becomes ineffable. Wherefore St. Bernard says; The reward of Saints is so great, that it cannot be measured, so numerous, that it cannot be counted, so copious, that it cannot be ended, and so precious, that it cannot be valued. 
Albert. Mag. in Comp. Theol. l. 7. c. 8. 1 Cor. 2. Isai. 64.  And Albertus Magnus to the same purpose; So great are the joys of Heaven, that all the Arithmaticians of the Earth cannot number them: The Geometricians cannot measure them: nor the most learned men in the world explicate them: because neither eye hath seen, nor ear hath heard, neither hath it entered into the heart of man, what God hath prepared for those who love him. The Saints shall rejoice in what is above them, which is the vision of God; in what is below them, which is the beauty of Heaven and other corporal Creatures; in what is within them, which is the glorification of their bodies; in what is without them, which is the company of Angels and men. God shall feast all their spiritual senses with an unspeakable delight; for he shall be their object, and shall also be a mirror to the sight, music to the ear, sweetness to the taste, balsam to the smell, flowers to the touch. There shall be the clear light of Summer, the pleasantness of the Spring, the abundance of Autumn, and the repose of Winter.  

§. 2.  
The principal joy of the Blessed is in the possession of God, whom they behold clearly as he is in himself. For as Honourable, Profitable, and Delectable (according to what we have already said) are not divided in Heaven, so the blessed Souls have three gifts essential and inseparable from that happy state, which correspond to those three kinds of blessings, which the Divines call Vision, Comprehension, and Fruition. The first consists in the clear and distinct sight of God, which is given to the Just as a reward of his merits, by which he receives an incomparable honour, since his works and virtues are rewarded in the presence of all the Angels with no less a Crown and recompense than is God himself. The second is the possession which the Soul hath of God, as of his riches and inheritance. And the third is the ineffable joy which accompanies this sight and possession. The greatness of this joy no tongue can tell; and I believe that neither the Blessed themselves, who have experience of it, nor the Angels of Heaven are able to declare it. Yet it will not be amiss, if we (as much as our ignorance and rudeness is able to attain unto) consider and admire it. This joy hath two singular qualities, by which we may in some sort conceive the immensity of it. The first, that it is so vigorous and powerful, that it excludes all evil, pain, and grief. This only is so great a good, that many of the Philosophers held it for the chief felicity of man. 
Cicero de Fin. & 5. Tuscul.  And therefore Cicero writes, that Jeronymus Rhodius, a famous Philosopher and a great Master, to whom may be joined Diodorus the Peripatetic, speaking of the chief happiness of man, taught that it consisted in being free from grief; It being the opinion of those Philosophers, that not to suffer pain or evil was the greatest and most supreme good. But herein was their error, that they judged that to be the good itself, which was but an effect and consequent of it: For so powerful is that love and joy, which springs from the clear vision of God, that it is sufficient to convert hell into glory; in so much as if to the most tormented Soul in hell were added all the torments of the rest of the Damned both Men and Devils, and that God should vouchsafe him but one glimpse of his knowledge, that only clear vision, though in the lowest degree, were sufficient to free him from all those evils both of sin and pain: So that his Soul being rapt by that ineffable beauty which he beheld, would not be sensible of any grief at all. O how potent a joy is that, which cast into such an abyss of torments, converts them all into consolations! How mighty were that fire, whereof one spark would consume the whole Ocean? There is no joy in this World so intense, which can suspend the grief we suffer from a finger, that is in sawing off. Griefs do more easily bereave us of the sense of pleasure, than pleasures do of pains. Yet such is the greatness of that sovereign joy in Heaven, that it alone is sufficient to drown all the griefs and torments both in Earth and Hell; and there is no pain in the World able to diminish the least part of it.  
The other stupendious wonder, which proceeds from the greatness of this joy, is the multitude of those pleasures, which as from a most fruitful root spring from it. Who would not be astonished, that the happiness of the Soul should cause so many, and so marvellous effects in the bodies of the Blessed? So excellent is that beatifical vision, which with ineffable joy possesses the spirit, that it bursts forth into the body with all the evident demonstrations of beauty, lustre, and the other gifts of glory. We see here that the heart is not able so fare to dissemble a great joy conceived, as that it appears not by some sign in the body; but that joy is so weak and feeble, that it extends no further than to express some little cheerfulness and mirth in the countenance. But the beatifical Vision is so immense a joy, that it wholly changes the body, making it beautiful as an Angel, resplendent as the Sun, immortal as a Spirit, and impassable as God himself, working great miracles and prodigies in the body, by the redundancy of that unspeakable comfort, which the spirit feels. O if one could place before the eyes of the World the body of some blessed Saint, enendowed with the four gifts of glory, full of clearness, splendour, and beauty, casting forth a fragrancy infinitely more sweet unto the senses than that of Musk and Amber, that men might see by this shadow, how immense is that light and joy, which thus illustrates and beautifies the flesh. O mortals, why do ye covet other pleasures with loss of Soul and Body, and do not rather seek after these with the profit and glory of both? O how different are temporal delights from eternal! those (especially if they be unlawful) blemish and destroy the Soul, and weaken and corrupt the body; but these beautify and embellish them both, conferring perfect happiness upon the Soul, and beauty and immortality upon the Body.   

§ 3.  
Finally all those joys of the Blessed both in Soul and Body, which are innumerable, have their source and original from that unspeakable joy of the clear vision of God. And how can the joy be less, which proceeds from such a cause, who gives himself, being the sweetness and beauty of the world, to be possessed by man, that joy being the very same which God enjoys, and which suffices to make God himself blessed with a blessedness equal to himself? Wherefore not without great mystery in those words, by which our Saviour admits the faithful into Heaven, it is said; Enter into the joy of thy Lord. he said not simply into joy, but to determine the greatness of it, says, it was his own joy, that joy, by which he himself becomes happy; and truly the immensity of this joy could not better be declared. We are therefore to consider, that there is nothing in this World, which hath not for his end some manner of perfection, and that those things, which are capable of reason and knowledge, have in that perfection a particular joy and complacency; which joy is greater or lesser according as that end is more or less perfect. Since therefore the Divine perfection is infinitely greater than that of all the Creatures, the joy of God, which is in himself, (for he hath no end not perfection distinct from himself) is infinitely greater than that of all things besides. This joy out of his infinite goodness and liberality he hath been pleased to make the holy Angels and blessed Souls partakers of, communicating unto the Just (although no ways due unto their nature) his own proper and special felicity. And therefore the joy of Saints, which is that of the beatifical vision, wherein consists the joy and happiness of God, must needs be infinite and unutterable, and all contents of this World in respect of it are bitter as aloes, gall, and wormwood.  
Besides, by how much a delectable object is more nearly and straightly united to the faculty, by so much greater is the joy and delight which it produces. Therefore God, who is the most excellent and delightful object, being in the beatifical vision united to the Soul with the most intimate union that can be in a pure creature, must necessarily cause a most inexplicable joy, incomparably greater than all the joys real or imaginable, which can be produced either by the Creatures now existent or possible. For as the Divine perfection encloseth within itself all the perfections of things created, possible, and imaginable, so the joy, which it causes in the Souls of the Blessed, must be infinitely greater than all other joys, which either have, or can be caused by the Creature. If the Greeks warred ten years and lost so much blood for the beauty of Helen, And if it seemed a small thing unto Jacob to serve fourteen years a Slave for that of Rachel, what trouble can seem great unto us to enjoy God, in comparison of whose beauty all which the World affords is but deformity? Absalon and Adonis were most beautiful, and with their very sight drew love and admiration from their beholders. But it looking upon Absalon, another ten times more lovely should appear, we should quickly leave to gaze upon Absalon, and fix our eyes upon the other: and if a third should come a hundred times more graceful than the second, we should serve the second in the same manner, and our eyes and delight would still follow him, who was the most agreeable. God being then infinitely more beautiful than we can either see or think, and although he should create some other Creature ten hundred thousand times more beautiful than these we know, yet that, and one, another million of times exceeding it, would both fall infinitely short of God himself, especially that beauty not being alone, but accompanied with perfections without limit, with an infinite wisdom, omnipotence, holiness, liberality, bounty, and all that can be imagined good, beautiful, and perfect, which must necessarily force the hearts of those who see him (although before his enemies) to love and adore him. Which is an other proof of the joy which springs from the beatifical vision, in regard it works so powerfully upon the will of him that enjoys it, that it compels it by an absolute necessity to a most intense love, although it had before detested it; because the joy must equalise the love which it caused. It there were in the World a Man as wise as an Angel, we should all desire to see him, as the Queen of Saba did Salmon; but if to this wisdom were joined the strength of Hercules or Samson, the victories of Machabeus or Alexander, the affability and courtesy of David, the friedliness of Jonathan, the liberality of the Emperor Titus, and to all this the beauty and comeliness of Absalon, who would not love and desire to live and converse with this admirable person? Why then do we not love and desire the sight of God, in whom all those perfections and graces infinitely above these are united: which also we ourselves, if we serve him, are to enjoy as if they were our own?  
O how great and delightful a Theatre shall it be to see God, as he is, with all his infinite perfections, and the perfections of all Creatures, which are eminently contained in the Deity! How admirable were that spectacle, where were represented all that are or have been pleasant or admirable in the World! If one were placed where he might behold the seven Wonders of the World, the sumptuous Banquets made by Assuerus and other Persian Kings, the rare Shows and Feasts exhibited by the Romans, the pleasant Trees and savoury Fruits of Paradise, the Wealth of Croesus, David, and the Assyrian and Roman Monarches, and all those jointly together, who would not be transported with joy and wonder at so admirable a sight? but more happy were he, upon whom all these were bestowed, together with the assurance of a thousand years of life, wherein to enjoy them. Yet all this were nothing in respect of the eternal sight of God, in whom those and all the perfections, that either are or have been, or possibly can be, are contained. What ever else is great and delightful in the World, together with all the pleasures and perfections, that all the men in the World have obtained, or shall obtain to the World's end, all the wisdom of Solomon, all the sciences of Plato and Aristotle, all the strength of Aristomenes and Milo, all the beauty of Paris and Adonis, if they should give all these things to one person, it would have no comparison, and would seem to be a loathsome thing, being compared only to the delight, which will be enjoyed in seeing God for all eternity; because in him only will be seen a Theatre of Bliss and Greatness, wherein are comprised as in one the greatness of all creatures. In him will be found all the richness of Gold, the delightfulness of the Meadows, the brightness of the Sun, the sweet taste of Honey, the pleasantness of Music, the beauty of the Heavens, the comfortable smell of Amber, the contentfulness of all the senses, and all that can be either admired or enjoyed.  
To this may be added, that this inestimable joy of the vision of God is to be multiplied into innumerable other joys; into as many, as there are blessed Spirits and Souls which shall enjoy the sight of God, in regard every one is to have a particular contentment of the bliss of every one. And because the blessed Spirits and Souls are innumerable, the joys likewise of every one shall be innumerable. 
Ansel. de Simil. cap. 71.  This St. Anselme notes in these words. With how great a joy shall the Just br replenished, to accomplish whose blessedness, the joy of each other Saint shall concur? for as every Saint shall love another equally as himself, so he shall receive equal joy from his happiness to that of his own. And if he shall rejoice in the happiness of those, whom he loves equally unto himself, how much shall he rejoice in the happiness of God, whom he loves better than himself? Finally the blessed Soul shall be surrounded with a Sea of joys, which shall fill all his powers and senses with pleasure and delight, no otherwise than if a Sponge, that had as many senses of pleasures as it hath pores and eyes, were steeped in a Sea of milk and honey, sucking in that sweetness with a thousand mouths. God is unto the Blessed a Sea of sweetness, an Ocean of unspeakable joys. Let us therefore rejoice who are Christians, unto whom so great blessings are promised: let us rejoice that Heaven was made for us, and let this hope banish all sadness from our hearts. 
Pallad. Hist. ca 52.  Palladius writes, that the Abbot Apollo, if he saw any of his Monks sad, would reprehend him, saying, Brother, why do we afflict ourselves with vain sorrow? let those grieve and be melancholy, who have no hope of Heaven, and not we, unto whom Christ hath promised the blessedness of his glory. Let this hope comfort us, this joy refresh us; and let us now begin to enjoy that here, which we are ever hereafter to possess; for hope, as Philo says, is an anticipation of joy. Upon this we ought to place all our thoughts, turning our eyes from all the goods and delights of the Earth.  
The Prophet Elias, when he had tasted but one little drop of that Celestial sweetness, presently locked up the windows of his senses, covering his eyes, ears, and face with his mantle. And the Abbot Sylvanus, when he had finished his prayers, shut his eyes, the things of the Earth seeming unto him unworthy to be looked upon after the contemplation of the heavenly, in the hope whereof we only are to rejoice.    

CAP. V.  
How happy is the eternal life of the Just.  
BY that which hath been said may sufficiently appear how happy and blessed is the life of the Just. But so many are their joys, and so abundant that eternal happiness, that we are forced to insist further upon this Subject. When the Hebrews would express ablessed person, they did not call him blessed in the singular, but blessings in the abstract, and plural; and so in the first Psalm in place of Beatus, the Hebrews say Beatitudines, and certainly with much reason: since the Blessed enjoy as many blessings as they have powers, or senses: Blessings in their understanding, will, and memory; blessings in their sight, hearing, smell, taste and touch. Nay, their blessings exceed the number of their senses, and the very pores of their bodies; so as that life is truly a life entire, total, and most perfect, wherein all, that is man, lives in joy and happiness. The Understanding shall live there with a clear and supreme wisdom, the Will with an inflamed love, the Memory with an eternal representation of the good which is past, the Senses with a continual delectation in their objects. Finally, all that is man shall live in a perpetual joy, comfort, and blessedness.  
And to begin with the life and joy of the Understanding, the Blessed besides that supreme and clear knowledge of the Creator, whereof we have already spoken, shall know the Divine mysteries, and the profound sense of the holy Scriptures; they, shall know the number of Saints and Angels as if they were but one; they shall know the secrets of the Divine providence, how many are damned, and for what; they shall understand the frame and making of the World, the whole artifice of Nature, the motions of the Stars and Planets, the proprieties of Plants, Stones, Birds, and Beasts, and shall not only know all things created, but many of those things which God might have created; all which they shall not only know jointly and in mass, but clearly and distinctly without confusion. This shall be the life of the Understanding, which shall feast itself with so high and certain truths. The knowledge of the greatest Wisemen and Philosophers of the World even in things natural is full of ignorance, deceit and appearance, because they know not the substance of things but through the shell and bark of accidents, so as the most rude and simple Peasant arriving at the height of glory shall be replenished with a knowledge, in respect of which the wisdom of Solomon and Aristotle were but ignorance and barbarism. 
Blos. de Mon. Spirit. c. 14.  Ludovicus Blosius reports that a certain simple and silly Maid appeared after death unto St. Gertrude, and began to instruct her in many high and sublime matters. The Saint admiring such great and profound knowledge in so ignorant a person, asked her from whence she had it: to whom the Virgin answered; Since I came to see God I know all things. Wherefore St. Cregory said well, It is not to be believed that the Saints, who behold within themselves the light of God, are ignorant of any thing without them.  
What a content were it to behold all the Wisemen of the World, and the principal Inventors and Masters of Sciences and Faculties met together in one Room, Adam; Abraham, Mayses, Solomon, Isay, Zoroaster, Plato, Socrates, Aristotle, Pythagoras, H●mer, Trismegistus, Solon, Lycurgus, Hipocrates, Euclides, Archimedes, Theophrastus, Dioscorides, and all the Doctors of the Church? How venerable were this Juncto, how admirable this Assembly, and what journeys would men make to behold them? If then to see such imperfect scraps of knowledge, divided amongst so many men, would cause so great admiration, what shall be the joy of the Blessed: when each particular person shall see his own understanding furnished with that true and perfect wisdom; whereof all theirs is but a shadow? Who can express the joy they shall receive by the knowledge of so many truths? What contentment would it be to one, if at once they should show unto him what ever there is, and what is done in the whole Earth: the fair Buildings so sumptuous, all the Fruit-trees of so great diversity, all living Creatures of so great variety, all the Birds so curiously painted, the Fishes so monstrous, the Metals so rich, all People and Nations farthest remote? certainly it would be a sight of wonderful satisfaction. But what will it be to see all this, whatever there is in the Earth, together with all that there is in Heaven and above Heaven? Some Philosophers in the discovery of a natural truth, or the invention of some rare curiosity have been transported with a greater joy and content than their senses were capable of. For this Aristotle spent so many sleepless nights; for this Pythagoras traveled into so many strange Nations; for this Crates deprived himself of all his wealth; and Archimedes, as Vitruvius writes, never removed his thoughts night nor day from the inquisition of some Mathematical demonstration. Such content he took in finding out some truth, that, when he eat, his mind was busy in making lines and angles. If he bathed and anointed himself, as was the custom of those times, his two fingers served him in the room of a compass to make circles in the oil, which was upon his skin. He spent many days in finding out by his Mathematical rules how much gold would serve to gild a crown of silver, that the Goldsmith might not deceive him: and having found it, as he was bathing in a Vessel of brass, not able to contain his joy, he fetched divers skips, and cried out, I have found it, I have found it. If then the finding out of so mean a truth could so transport this great Artist, what joy shall the Saints receive, when the Creator shall discover unto them those high secrets, and above all that sublime mystery of the Trinity of persons in the unity of essence? This with the rest of those Divine knowledges, wherewith the most simple of the Just shall be endued, shall satiate their Souls with unspeakable joys. O ye wise of the World, and ignorant before God, why do you weary yourselves in vain curiosities, busy to understand, and forgetful to love, intent to know, and slow to work? Drye and barren speculation is not the way to knowledge, but devout affection, ardent love, mortification of the senses, and holy works in the service of God. Labour therefore and deserve, and you shall receive more knowledge in one instant, than the wise of the world have obtained with all their watch, travails and experiences. Aristotle, for the great love he bore to knowledge, held that the chief felicity of man consisted in contemplation. If he found so great joy in natural speculations, what shall we find in divine, and the clear vision of God?  
There shall the Memory also live, representing unto us the Divine benefits, and rendering eternal thanks unto the Author of all; the Soul rejoicing in its own happiness to have received so great mercies for so small merits, and remembering the dangers, from which it hath been freed by Divine favour, it shall sing the verse in the Psalm, The snare is broken and we are delivered. The remembrance likewise (as St. Thomas teaches) of the acts of virtue and good works, by which Heaven was gained, shall be a particular joy unto the Blessed, both in respect they were a means of our happiness, as also of pleasing so gracious and good a Lord. This joy, which results from the memory of things past, is so great, as Epicurus, prescribing a way to be ever joyful and pleasant, advises us to preserve in memory, and to think often of contents past. But in Heaven we shall not only joy in the memory of those things, wherein we have pleased God in complying with his holy will, and in ordering and disposing our life in his service, but in the troubles also and dangers we have passed. The memory of a good lost without remedy causes great regret and torment, and to the contrary, the memory of some great evil avoided and danger escaped is most sweet and delectable. The Wiseman said the memory of death was bitter, as indeed it is to those, who are to die, but unto the Saints, who have already past it, and are secure in Heaven, nothing can be more pleasant: who now to their unspeakable joy know themselves to be free from death, infirmity, and danger.  
There also shall live the Will in that true and vital life, rejoicing to see all its desires accomplished with the abundance and sweet satiety of so many felicities; being necessitated to love so admirable a beauty as the Soul enjoys and possesses in God Almighty. Love makes all things sweet, and as it is a torment to be separated from what one loves, so it is a great joy and felicity to remain with the beloved; And therefore the Blessed loving God more than themselves, how unspeakable a comfort must it be to enjoy God, and the society of those, whom they so much affect? The love of the Mother makes her delight more in the sight of her own Son, though foul and of worse conditions, than in that of her neighbours. The love then of Saints one towards another, being greater than that of Mothers to their Children, and every one of them being so perfect and worthy to be beloved, and every one enjoying the sight of the same God, how comfortable must be their conversation? 
Sen. Ep. 6.  Seneca said, That the possession of what good soever was not pleasing without a Partner. The possession then of the chief good must be much more delightful with the society of such excellent companions. If a man were to remain alone for many years in some beautiful Palace, it would not please him so well as a Desert with company; but the City of God is full of most noble Citizens, who are all sharers of the same blessedness. This conversation also being with wise, holy and discreet personages shall much increase their joy. For if one of the greatest troubles of humane life be to suffer the ill conditions, follies, and impertinencies of rude and illbred people, and the greatest content to converse with sweet, pious, and learned friends, what shall that Divine conversation be in Heaven, where there is none ill conditioned, none impious, none froward, but all peace, piety, love, and sweetness? in so much as Saint Austin says, 
Aug. lib. de Spirittu & anima.  Every one shall there rejoice as much in the felicity of another, as in his own ineffable joy, and shall possess as many joys, as he shall find companions. There are all things, which are either requisite or delightful, all riches, ease, and comfort. Where God is, nothing is wanting. All there know God without error, behold him without end, praise him without weariness, love him without tediousness, and in this love repose full of God. Besides all this the Security, which the will shall have in the eternal possession of this felicity, is an unspeakable joy. The fear that the good things, which we enjoy, are to end, or at least may end, mingles wormwood with our joys; and pleasures do not relish, where there is danger. But this Celestial happiness being eternal, neither shall nor can end, diminish, or be endangered, but with this security adds a new joy unto those others of the Saints.  

§. 2.  
Besides the Powers of the Soul, the Senses also shall live nourished with the food of most proportionable and delightful objects. The eyes shall ever be recreated with the sight of the most glorious and beautiful Bodies of the Saints. One Sun suffices to cheer up the whole World. What joy then shall one of the Blessed conceive in beholding as many Suns as there are Saints, and in seeing himself one of them, when his hands, feet, and the rest of his members shall all forth beams clearer than the Sun at midday? how shall he be transported in beholding the Body of the holy Virgin our most blessed Lady, more beautiful and resplendent than the light of all the Saints together? When Saint Dionysius Arcopagita beheld her in a mortal Body, she seemed unto him as if she had been in glory. With what joy then and gladness shall we look upon her in Heaven clad with immortality? 
Hester. 2.  Of Hester the holy Scripture tells us, that she was incomparably beautiful, and of most rare features, ravishing the eyes of all, and exceedingly amiable. With how fat greater excellency will the Queen of Heaven appear full of all graces and privileges of beauty in the happy state of glory? But above all, with what content and admiration shall we behold the glorious Body of Christ our Redeemer, in comparison of whose splendour, that of all the Saints shall be as darkness from whose wounds shall issue forth rays of a particular brightness? The tormented members also of the Martyrs, and the mortified parts of the Confessors shall flourish with a singular beauty and splendour. Besides all this, the glory and greatness of the Empyrial Heaven, and the lustre of that Celestial City shall infinitely delight the blessed Citizens.  
The ears shall be filled with most harmonious songs and music, as may be gathered from many places of the Apocalypse; and if the Harp of David delighted Saul so much as it assuaged the fury of his passions, cast forth the Devils, and treed him of that melancholy, whereof the wicked spirit made use: and that the Lyre of Orpheus wrought such wonders both with men and beasts, what shall the harmony of Heaven do? The devout Virgin Donna Sancha Carillo being sick and ready to die with excessive pain, 
Roa. l. 1. c. 10. in ejus vita.  with the hearing of music from Heaven was freed from her grief, and remained sound and healthy. St. Bonaventure writes of St. Francis, that whilst an Angel touched his Instrument, it seemed unto him that he was already in glory. What delight then will it be, not only to hear the voice of one Instrument played upon by an Angel, but also the voices of thousands of Angels together with the admirable melody of musical Instruments? The singing of one little Bird only ravished an holy Monk, for the space of three hundred years, when as he persuaded himself, they being past, that there were no more than three hours past. What sweetness will it be to heat so many heavenly Musicians, those millions of Angels, so many men, which will be sounding forth their Allelujas, which holy Toby mentioned, and those Virgins singing a new song, which none but they could sing? Surius writes in the life of St. Nichalas Tolentine, that for fix months before his death he heard every night a little before Matins most melodious music of Angels, in which he had a taste of that sweetness which God had prepared for him in his glory; and such joy and comfort he received by hearing it, that he was wholly transported, desiring nothing more than to be freed from his Body to enjoy it. The same desired St. Austin, when he said, 
Aug. c. 25. med.  that all the employments, all the entertainments of the Courtiers in Heaven consisted in praises of the Divine Majesty without end, without weariness or trouble. Happy were I, and for ever happy, if after death I might deserve to hear the melody of those songs, which the Citizens of that Celestial habitation, and the squadrons of those blessed spirits sing in praise of the eternal King. This is that sweet music, which St. John heard in the Apocalypse, when the Inhabitants of Heaven sang: Let all the world bless thee, O Lord; To thee be given all honour, and dominion for a world of worlds. Amen.  
The smell shall be feasted with the odour, which issues from those beautiful Bodies, more sweet than Musk or Amber, and from the whole Heaven more fragrant than Jesemins or Roses. 
Greg. l. 4. dialog. c. 16. & Hom. 38. in Evang. Turonen. li. 7. histo. Fran.  St. Gregory the Great writes that Christ our Redeemer, appearing unto Tarsilla his Sister, cast forth so delicious a smell and fragrancy, that it well appeared it could not proceed but from the Author of all sweetness. St. Gregory of Tours writing of the holy Abbot St. Silvius, says, that when he was dead there was so great sadness in the Monastery for the loss of him, that our Lord was pleased to command that he should be restored to life again. The Saint obeyed though with great resentment of what he left, and whither he returned. He bewailed his banishment with a fresh and lively memory of that Celestial Country, where he had seen himself a little before with so great advantage. The Monks pressed him very hard to declare unto them something of of what he had seen. He told them: I, my dear Brothers, mounted up to the land of the living, where I had the Sun, Moon, and Stars for my footstool, with greater splendour and beauty than if it had been paved with silver and gold, being placed in the seat deputed for me, I was replenished with an odour of so singular sweetness, that it alone hath been sufficient to banish all appetites or desires of the things of this life; in so much that I neither desired to eat, nor drink any thing to maintain it. 
Baron. To. 9 an. 716  Baronius reports of one, who raised from death, amongst other things recounted, That he had seen a most delightful place, where an infinite number of most beautiful persons did recreate themselves, and that there issued from them a most fragrant and miraculous sweetness: and this the Angels told him was the Paradise of the Sons of God. 
Greg. l. 4. Dial.  The like is reported also by St. Gregory of a certain Soldier. Neither is it much that glorious Bodies should breathe out so sweet a smell, since even in this valley of misery the Bodies of Saints without life or soul have sent forth a most admirable fragrancy. St. Gregory the Great writes that at the instant, 
Greg. 4. Dial. c. 14.  when Sr. Servius died, all who were present were filled with a most incomparable sweetness. St. Jerome reports the like of St. Hilarion, that ten months after his death his Body cast forth a most fragrant perfume. If this be in corruptible flesh, what shall be in the immortal Bodies of the Saints?  
The taste also in that blessed Country shall not want the delight of its proper object. For although the Saints shall not there feed, which were to necessitate that happy state unto something besides itself, yet the tongue and  shall be satiated with most pleasant and savoury relishes; so as with great decency and cleanliness they shall have the delight of meat without the trouble of eating, by reason of the great delicacy of this Celestial taste. The glory of the Saints is often signified in holy Scripture, under the names of a Supper, Banquet, Manna. 
Aug. lib. de spiritu & vita. Laur. Justin. de Dis. Mon. ca 23.  St. Austin says it cannot be explicated how great shall be the delight and sweetness of the taste, which shall eternally be found in Heaven. And St. Laurentius Justinianus affirms that an admirable sweetness of all that can be delightful to the taste shall satisfy the  with a most agreeable satiety. If Esau sold his Birthright for a dish of Lentil pottage, well may we mortify our taste here upon earth, that we may enjoy that perfect and incomparable one in Heaven.  
The touch also shall there receive a most delightful entertainment. All they tread upon shall seem unto the Just to be flowers, and the whole disposition of their Bodies shall be ordered with a most sweet and exquisite temperature. For as the greatest penances of the Saints were exercised in this sense by the afflictions endured in their Bodies, so it is reason that this sense should then receive a particular reward. And as the torments of the damned in hell are most expressed in that sense, so the Bodies of the Blessed in Heaven are in that sense to receive a special joy and refreshment. And as the heat of that infernal fire without light is to penetrate even to the entrails of those miserable persons, so the candour and brightness of the celestial light is to penetrate the bodies of the Blessed, and fill them with an incomparable delight and sweetness. All then, what we are to do, is to live in that true and perfect life, all is to be joy in that eternal happiness. Therefore, as St. Anselme says, 
Ansel. de Simil. c. 59  the eyes, nose, mouth, hands, even to the bowels, and marrow of the bones, and all and every part of the body in general and particular shall be sensible of a most admirable pleasure and content.  

Joan. de Tamba Trac. de Deliciis sensibilibus Paradisi. Et Nich. de Nise de quat. Noviss. 3. Mist. 4. Consi.  The Humanity of Christ our Redeemer is to be the principal and chief joy of all the Senses; and therefore John Tambescensis, and Nicholas of Nise say, that as the intellectual knowledge of the Divinity of Christ is the joy and essential reward of the Soul, so the sensitive knowledge of the Humanity of Christ is the chief good and essential joy of the Senses, and the utmost end and felicity, whereunto they can aspire. This it seems was meant by our Saviour in St. John, when speaking unto the Father he said; This is life eternal, that is, essential, blessedness (as Nicholas de Nise interprets it) that they know thee the only true God (in which is included the essential glory of the Soul,) and him whom thou hast sent, Jesus Christ, in which is noted the essential blessedness of the Senses: in so much as only in the Humanity of our Saviour the appetite of the Senses shall be so perfectly satisfied, as they shall have no more to desire, but in it shall receive all joy, pleasure, and fullness of delight; for the eyes, shall be the sight of him who is above all beauty: for the ears, one only word of his shall sound more sweetly than all the harmonious music of the Celestial spirits: for the smell, the fragrancy that shall issue from his most holy Body shall exceed the perfume of spices: for the taste and touch, to kiss his feet and sacred wounds shall be beyond all sweetness.  
It is much also to be noted, that the blessed Souls shall be crowned with some particular joys, which the very Angels are not capable of. For first it is they only who are to enjoy the Crowns of Doctors, Virgins, and Martyrs, since no Angel can have the glory to have shed his blood and died for Christ: neither to have overcome the flesh, and by combats and wrestlings subjected it unto reason. Wherefore Saint Bernard said, The chastity of men was more glorious than that of Angels. Secondly, men shall have the glory of their bodies and joy of their senses, which the Angels cannot: For as they want the enemy of the Spirit, which is the Flesh, so they must want the glory of the victory. Neither shall they have this great joy of mankind in being redeemed by Christ from sin, and as many damnations into hell, as they have committed mortal sins, and to see themselves now freed and secure from that horrid evil, and so many enemies of the Soul, which they never had: which must needs produce a most unspeakable joy.    

Cap. VI  
The excellency and perfection of the Bodies of the Saints in the life eternal.  
WE will not forbear also to consider, what man shall be when he is eternal, when being raised again at the great day he shall enter Soul and Body into Heaven. Let us run over, if you please, all those kinds of goods which expect us in that Land of promise. When God promised Abraham the Country of Palestine, he commanded him to look upon it, and travel and compass it from side to side. 
Gen. 13.  Lift up thine eyes, saith the Lord, and from the place, where thou standest, look towards the North, and towards the South, and towards the East, and towards the West: All the land which thou seest I will give unto thee and thy seed for ever. And immediately after, Arise and walk the land in length and breadth, for I will certainly give it thee. We may take these words as spoken unto ourselves, since they seem to promise us the Kingdom of Heaven; for no man shall enter into that which he docs not desire: and no man can desire that as he ought to do, which he has not walked over in his consideration; for that which is not known is hardly desired. And therefore we ought often to contemplate the greatness of this Land, the length of its eternity, and the breadth and largeness of its felicity, which is so far extended, that it fills not only the Soul, but the Body with happiness and glory: that glory of the Soul redounding unto the Body, and perfecting it with those four most excellent gifts, and replenishing it with all felicity which can be imagined or desired. If Moses, seeing an Angel in a corporal figure only upon the back part, and but in passage, received so great a glory from the light and beauty which he beheld, that his heart not being able to contain it, it struck forth into his face with a divine brightness, what joy shall the blessed Souls receive from the sight of God himself, when they shall behold him as he is face to face, not in passage or a moment, but for all eternity? This joy by reason of their strict union their Souls shall communicate unto their happy Bodies, 
Albert. Mag. in Comp. Theol. l. 7. c. 38.  which from thenceforth shall be filled with glory, and invested with a light seven times brighter than that of the Sun, as is noted by Albertus Magnus. For although it be said in the Gospel, that the Just shall shine as the Sun, yet Isaias the Prophet says, that the Sun in these days shall shine seven times more than it now doth. This light, being the most beautiful and excellent of corporal qualities, shall  the Just as with a garment of most exceeding lustre and glory. What Emperor was ever clad in such a purple? what humane Majesty ever cast forth beams of such splendour? 
Joseph. l. 19 c. 〈◊〉;  Herod upon the day of his greatest magnificence could only  himself in a Robe of silver admirably wrought, which did not shine of itself, but by reflection of the Sun beams, which then in his rising cast his rays upon it: and yet this little glittering was sufficient to make the people salute him as a God. What admiration shall it then cause to behold the glorious Body of a Saint, not clothed in Gold or Purple, not adorned with Diamonds or Rubies, but more resplendent than the Sun itself? Put all the brightest Diamonds together, all the fairest Rubies, all the most beautiful Carbuncles: let an Imperial Robe be embroidered with them all: all this will be no more than as coals in respect of a glorious body, which shall be all transparent, bright, and resplendent far more than if it were set with Diamonds. O the basenese of worldly riches! they all put together could not make a Garment so specious and beautiful. If here we account it for a bravery to wear a Diamond Ring upon our fingers, and women glory in some Carbuncle dangling at their breasts, what shall it be to have our hands, feet, arid breasts themselves more glorious and resplendent than all the Jewels of the World? The Garments which we wear here, how rich soever, are rather an affront and disgrace unto us than an ornament, since they argue an imperfection and a necessity of our bodies, which we are forced to supply with something of another mature. Besides our  were given as a mark of Adam's fall in Paradise, and we wear them as a penance enjoined for his Sin. And what fool so impudent and sottish, as to bestow precious trimming upon a penitential Garment? But such are not the Ornaments of the Saints in Heaven; their lustre is their own, not borrowed from their Garments, not  without them, but within their very entrails, each part of them being more transparent than Crystal, and brighter than the Sun. It is recounted in the Apocalypse as a great wonder, that a Woman was seen clothed with the Sun, and crowned with twelve Stars. This indeed was far more glorious than any Ornament upon Earth, where we hold it for a great bravery to be adorned with twelve rich Diamonds and a Carbuncle; and what are those in comparison of the Sun and so many Stars? Yet this is short of the Ornament of the Saints, whose lustre is proper to themselves, intrinsically their own, not taken and borrowed from something without them, as was that of the Woman's. The State and Majesty, with which this gift of splendour shall adorn the Saints, shall be incomparably greater than that of the mightiest Kings. It were a great Majesty in a Prince, when he issues forth of his Palace by night, to be attended by a thousand Pages, each having a lighted Torch; but were those Torch's Stars, it were nothing to the state and glory of a Saint in Heaven, who carries with him a light equal to that of the Sun seven times doubled; and what greater glory than not to need the Sun, which the whole World needs? Where the Just is, shall be no night; for wheresoever he goes, he carries the day along with him. What greater authority can there be than to shine far brighter than the Sun, carrying with him far greater Majesty than all the men of the Earth could be able to confer upon him, if they went accompanying him, carrying lighted Torches in their hands? St. Paul beholding the gift of Clarity in the humanity of Christ remained for some days without sense or motion. And St. John only beholding it in the face of our Saviour fell down as if dead, his mortal eyes not being able to endure the lustre of so great a Majesty. St. Peter, because he saw something of it in the transfiguration of Christ, was so transported with the glory of the place, that he had a desire to have continued there for ever. Neither was this much in Christ, since the people of Israel were not able to suffer the beams which issued from the face of Moses, though then in a frail and mortal body. 
Caesar. lib. 12. mir. cap. 54.  Caesarius writes of a great Doctor of the University of Paris, who being ready to give up his ghost, wondered how it could be possible that Almighty God could make his body composed of dust to shine like the Sun. But our Lord being pleased to comfort and strengthen him in the belief of the Article of the Resurrection, caused so great a splendour to issue forth of the feet of the sick person, that his eyes not being able to suffer so great a splendour, he was forced to hid them under his Bedcloathes. But much more is it, that in bodies already dead this glory should appear. The body of St. Margaret, Daughter to the King of Hungary, sent forth such beams of light, that they seemed to be like those of Heaven. The splendour also of other dead bodies of the Saints hath been such, that mortal eyes were not able to behold them. If then this Garment of light do beautify those dead bodies without souls, how shall it illustrate those beautiful and perfect bodies in Heaven, who are alive, and animated with their glorious spirits for all eternity? St. John Damascen said, that the light of this inferior World was the honour and ornament of all things. How shall then the immortal light of that eternal glory deck and adorn the Saints? for it shall not only make them shine with that bright candour, we have already spoken of, but with diversity of colours shall embellish some particular parts more than others. In the Crowns of Virgins it shall be most white, in that of Martyrs red, in that of Doctors of some particular brightness. Neither shall those marks of glory be only in their heads or faces, but in the rest of their members. And therefore Cardinal Bellarmine says, 
Bellar. conc. de Beat. p. 2.  that the bodies of St. John Baptist, and St. Paul shall shine with a most incredible beauty, having their necks as it were adorned with collars of gold. What sight more glorious than to behold so many Saints like so many Suns to shine with so incomparable lustre and beauty? What light then will that of Heaven be, proceeding from so many lights, or, to speak more properly, from so many Suns? By how much the number of Torches is greater, by so much is also greater the light they produce altogether. How great then shall the clarity or that holy City be, where many Suns do inhabit? And if by the sight of every one in particular their joy shall be more augmented, by the sight of a number without number what measure can that joy have, which results from so beautiful a spectacle?  

§ 2.  
As all the bodies of Saints are to be wholly filled with light, so they are to enjoy the privileges of light: which amongst all material qualities is ennobled with this prerogative, that it hath no contrary, and is therefore impassable. And so the glorious bodies of the Saints, having nothing that may oppose them, are also freed from sufferance. Besides, nothing is more swift than light; and therefore those bodies, who have the greatest share of light, are also the most swift in motion; whereupon there is no Element so nimble and active as fire: no nature so swift as that of the Sun and Stars; and light itself is so quick, that in an instant it illuminates the whole Sphere of its activity. In like manner the glorious bodies of the Saints, as they are to enjoy more light, so they are to move with more speed and agility than the very Stars themselves. The light is also so subtle and pure, that it stops not in its passage, although it meets with some bodies solid and massy. The whole Sphere and body of the Air hinders not the. Sun from enlightening us below; and Crystal, Diamonds, Glass, and other heavy bodies are penetrated by light. But far greater shall be the subtlety and purity of the blessed bodies, unto whose passage nothing how gross or opake soever shall be an obstacle. For this reason the Saints in holy Scripture are often called by the name of Light: and particularly it is said, that the ways of the Just are like a shining light at midday. For as the light, because impassable, makes his way through dirty and unclean places without defiling its purity, passes with speed and penetrates other bodies, that stand in its way: So the Saints endowed with the light, which they receive from this gift of Clarity, cannot suffer from any thing, having an agility to move with speed from place to place, and a subtlety to penetrate wheresoever they please.  
The goods resulting from these privileges and endowments of the glorious bodies are more in number than all the evils of this mortal life. The only gift of impassibility frees us from all those miseries, which our bodies now suffer: the cold of Winter, the heat of Summer, infirmities, griefs, tears, and the necessity of eating, which one necessity includes infinite others. Let us but consider what cares and troubles men undergo only to sustain their lives. The Labourer spends his days in ploughing, sowing, and reaping: The Shepherd suffers cold and heat in watching of his flock: The Servant in obeying another's will and command: The Rich man in cares and fears in preserving what he possesses. What dangers are passed in all estates only to be sure to eat? from all which the gift of impassibility exempts the Just. The care of clothing troubles us also little less than that of feeding: and that of preserving our health much more. For as our necessities are doubly increased by sickness, so are our cares; from all which he, who is impassable, is free: and not only from the griefs and pains of this life, but if he should enter into hell, it would not burn one hair of him.  
The Prerogative also of the gift of agility is most great; which easily appears by the troubles and inconveniences of a long journey, which (howsoever we are accommodated) is not performed without much weariness, and oftentimes with danger both of health and life. A King though he pass in a Coach or Litter after the most easy and commodious way of travelling, must pass over rocks, hills, and rivers, and spend much time; but with the gift of agility a Saint in the twinkling of an eye will place himself where he pleases, and pass millions of leagues with as much ease and in as short a time, as a furlong. We admire the Story of St. Anthony of Milan, who in one day passed from Italy into Portugal to free his Father condemned wrongfully to death; and at that of St. Ignatius Patriarch of the Society of Jesus, who in a short time transported himself from Rome to Colen, and from thence to Rome without being miss, less than in two hours' space. If to the mortal bodies of his Servants God communicates such gifts, what shall he do to the glorified bodies of his Saints? What an excellency of nature were it to be able in one day to visit all the great Kingdoms of the Earth, and see what passed amongst them, in an hour to go to Rome the chief City of the World: from thence to pass to Constantinople the head of the Eastern Empire: In another hour to the Great Cair, and consider there the immense multitude of the Inhabitants: In another hour go to Goa the Court of the East-Indies, and behold the Riches thereof: in another to Pequin, the Seat of the Kings of China, and contemplate the vast extent of that prodigious City: in another to Meaco the Court of Japonia: in another to Manila the head City of the Philippin Islands: in another to Ternate in the Maluca's: in another to Lima in Peru: in another to Mexico in New Spain: in another to Lisboa and Madrid, in another to London and Paris, the principal Seats of Christendom, marking at ease what passed in the Courts of those great Monarches? If this were a great privilege, what shall that be of those glorious bodies, who in a short space can traverse all the Heavens, visit the Earth, return unto the Sun, and Firmament, and there observe what is above the Stars in the Empyrial Heaven? 
Greg. li. 3. Dial. 36.  St. Gregory writes in his Dialogues, that a Soldier assaulting a holy personage, and having his naked sword lifted up and ready to give the blow, the man cried out to his Patron St. John for help, who instantly withheld the Soldier's hand, that he could not move it. How soon did St. John hear him in Heaven, who invoked him upon Earth? with what speed did he descend to assist him, withholding and drying up the arm of the wicked Soldier? the bodies of the Saints are to move hereafter with no less speed, than their spirits do now; the weight of their bodies shall no ways hinder them; they shall therefore in the same manner walk or stay upon Water, Air, Heavens, as upon Earth. It was miraculous in St. Quirinus' Martyr, St. Maurus, and St. Francis of Paula, that they walked upon waters, passed rapid rivers and seas without Vessels; but the glorious bodies shall not only be able to traverse the seas, mount into the air, but enter into flames secure and without hurt. It is said of S. Francis of Assisium, that in the fervour of his prayers and contemplations he was seen lifted up into the air; and the great Servant of God Father Diego Martin's, of the Society of Jesus, was lifted up in prayer above the highest trees and Towers, and hanging in the air persisted in his devotion. If God vouchsafe so great favours to his servants in this valley of tears, what privileges will he deny to the Citizens of Heaven?  
To this so notable gift of Agility shall be annexed that of Penetration: by which their glorious bodies shall have their way free and pervious through all places; no impediment shall stop their motion, and for them shall be no prison or enclosure. They shall with greater ease pass through the middle of a rock, than an arrow through the air. It shall be the same thing for them to mount unto the Moon, where they shall meet no solid body to oppose them, as to pierce unto the centre through rocks, metals, and the gross body of the earth. We wonder to hear that the Zahories see those things, which are hid under the earth. Let us admire that which is certain, that the Saints cannot only see, but enter into the profundity of the earth, and tell what minerals and other secrets are contained in its entrails. Metaphrastes writes, that a certain Goth, a Soldier of the Garrison of Edessa, fell passionately in love with a Maid of the same City, and finding no other way to enjoy her, demanded her in marriage; but the Mother and Kindred gave no ear to the treaty, trusting little to a Barbarian and a Stranger, who carrying her into a Country far distant (as his was) might there use her at his pleasure. The Soldier notwithstanding persisting still in his suit with many promises of good entertainment, gained at last the consent of the Maid and her Friends, only the Mother would not be satisfied, before they had entered all together into the Temple of the holy Martyrs St. Samona, Curia, and Abiba, and that there the Soldier had renewed his promises by solemn oath, and called the holy Martyrs as witnesses; which done, the Maid was delivered unto him; whom he not much after carried into his own Country, where he was formerly married, and had his Wife yet living. There better to conceal his wickedness he fell into a greater, and like a wild beast without pity enclosed the poor woman alive in a Sepulchre, and there left her. She thus betrayed, had recourse unto the Saints, whom she with tears invoked as witnesses of the Soldier's treachery and breach of faith. At the instant the holy Martyrs appeared in a glorious equipage, and casting her into a gentle sleep, conveyed her (the Sepulchre still remaining locked) without hurt into her own Country, where they left her. The Barbarian ignorant of what had happened, and persuading himself she was long since dead, returned a second time to Edessa, where convinced of the crime he satisfied it with his life. If the Saints than have power to make the persons of others pass through distinct bodies, much more are they able to make their own to penetrate them without impediment.  
Finally the Servants of Christ shall be there so replenished with all goods both of soul and body, that there shall be nothing more for them to desire. And every one, even during this life, hoping for those eternal goods, may say with St. Austin, What wouldst thou my Body? what is't thou defirest my Soul? There ye shall find all which you desire. If you are pleased with beauty: there the Just shine as the Sun; and if with any pure delight: there not one, but a whole sea of pleasure, which God keeps in store for the Blessed, shall quench your thirst. Let men then raise their desires unto that place, where only they can be accomplished. Let them not gape after things of the earth, which cannot satisfy them, but let them look after those in Heaven, which are only great, only eternal, and can only fill the capacity of man's heart.    

CAP. VII.  
How we are to seek after Heaven, and to prefer it before all the goods of the Earth.  
LEt a Christian compare the miseries of this life with the felicities of the other: the weakness of our nature in this mortal estate with the vigour and privileges of that immortal which expects us: and let him excite and stir up himself to gain a glory eternal by troubles short and temporary. 
Justinus lib. 1.  Cyrus, when he intended to invade the Medes, commanded his Persians: upon a certain day to meet him with each one a sharp Hatchet. They obeying, he willed them to cut down a great Wood; which performed with much toil and diligence, he invited them for the next day unto a sumptuous. Banquet: and in the height of their mirth demanded of them, whether they liked better the first day's labour, or that day's feast. The answer was ready; all cried out, That day's entertainment. With this he engaged them to make war upon the Medes, assuring them, that after a short trouble in subduing an effeminate Nation, they should enjoy incomparable pleasure, and be Masters of inestimable riches. This served him to make the Persians follow him, and conquer the Kingdom of the Medes. If this motive were sufficient to make a barbarous people prefer a doubtful reward before a certain and hazardous labour, why should not a certain reward, and infinitely greater than the labour suffice us Christians? Let us compare that Celestial Supper of the other life with the troubles of this, The greatness of the Kingdom of Heaven with the littleness of our services, The joys above with the goods below, and our labours will seem feasts, our services repose, and the felicity of earth misery and baseness. What is the honour of this life, which is in itself false, given by lying men, short and limited, in respect of that honour the Just receive in Heaven, which is true, given by God, eternal, extended through the Heavens, and manifested to all that are in them, Men and Angels? What are the riches of the Earth, which often fail, are ever full of dingers and cares, and never free their owners from necessity, in comparison of those which have no end, and give all security and abundance? What are their short pleasures, which prejudice the health, consume the substance, and make infamous those who seek them, in respect of those immense joys of glory, which with delight join honour and profit? What is this life of misery to that full of blessings and happiness: and what those evil qualities of our bodies now to those precious gifts of glory after our resurrection? We are now all rottenness, unweildiness, corruption, uncleanness, infirmities, loathsomeness and worms. Then all shall be light, incorruption, splendour, purity, beauty, and immortality. Let us compare these together, what difference there is betwixt a body sickly, weak, pale, and loathsome, or some eight days after death full of worms, corruption and stench abominable, with the same body being now in glory, exceeding the Sun far in brightness, the Heavens in beauty, more odoriferous than the purest Roses or Lilies.  
Neither do the evils, or goods temporal bear any comparison with the eternal; since, as the Apostle says, That which is momentary and light does cause an eternal weight of glory. In the beginning of the Civil Wars with the Senate of Rome carried on against Caius and Fulvius Gracchus, 
Val. l. c. 4.  the Consul Opimius by public Edict promised, that whosoever should bring him the head of Caius Gracchus, should receive for reward its weight in gold. All esteemed this a recompense highly to be valued, that one should receive equal weight of that precious metal to the weight of dead flesh. But God's promises far exceed this. For a labour or trouble as light as a feather he gives eternal weight of glory. The Apostle says not, that God Almighty doth give only a great weight for light merits, out also adds over and above, that it shall be eternal. It were a great happiness, if according to our penances or voluntary labours we should receive only equal proportion of bliss, yet so as it were eternal; because how little soever it were, it were to be purchased at a very cheap rate, though it were in substance but so much for so much, so that the difference were only such in the duration thereof: as if for the toil of one day's labour were given a whole year of rest. But Almighty God giving much for a little, for that which is light massy and heavy, for a thing momentary an eternal reward, what greater increase or advantage can we possibly receive? Se●imuleyus will be a great confusion unto us, who hearing the foresaid Proclamation of the Roman Consul, stuck not at any toil or danger, until he had cut off the head of Gracchus, greedy of the equal weight thereof in gold. Let us have the like courage the Soldier had to take away the temporal life of a Man, to the end we may not bereave ourselves of an eternal life. And since the purchase of Heaven is so cheap, let us procure to augment the gain, and let's not have less desire of goods eternal, than Setimuleyus had for temporals: who desirous of a great reward filled with melted lead all the hollow places of the head, which he had cut off. Let us fill our momentary and light works with great affection and love. Let us increase our desires, and in any work how little soever accompany the same with a great will, with a vehement desire to hoard up eternal treasures for temporal pains. What an advantageous exchange will it be to buy Heaven for a draught of water, for that which is but vile, and lasts but a moment that which is of inestimable price, and is to last for all eternity? What sort of bargain would it be, if one could buy a Kingdom for a straw? yet so it is. For that which is no more worth than a Straw we may purchase the Kingdom of Heaven. Certainly all the felicity, riches, and earthly delights are no more than a straw compared with the glory of Heaven. How fond and foolish would he be, who having a Basket full of chips, would not give one of them for an hundred weight of gold? This is the sottishness of men, that for earthly goods they will not receive those of Heaven. Who is there, that having offered him a precious stone for some small sand, should not have so much wit, as to give a thing so base and abject for a thing so noble and precious? Who being offered a rich treasure for an handful of cinders, would not admit of so gainful an exchange? What hungerstarved man being invited to a full Table of dainty dishes upon condition he should not eat an apple paring, would reject the invitation? Heaven is offered us for things little and of small estimation. Why do not we accept the offer? Christ our Saviour called the Kingdom of Heaven a precious Margarite and a hidden Treasure: for which we ought to forsake all the goods of the earth: by reason they are all but dust and misery in respect of a treasure of Pearls and Diamonds, St. Josaph at did very much in leaving an earthly Kingdom for a greater assurance of that of Heaven. He did very much according to our deceitful apprehension and false estimation of things. But if it be well considered, he did very little, much less, than if he had given one Basketful of Earth for another of Gold, a Sack full of Small-coal for a great Treasure, and a Nutshell for a great Banquet. Whatever is in the Earth may well be given for the least crumb of Heaven; because all the greatnesses of this World are but crumbs, nutshells, and trash compared with the least particle of heavenly bliss. All the felicity upon Earth hath no substance nor weight, if compared with the weight of eternal glory, which is prepared for us. This David did, and convinced by the greatness of heavenly glory, said unto our Lord: I did eneline my heart to do thy justifications. The heart of man is like a just balance, that inclines that way, where is the greatest weight. And as in the heart of David the temporal weighed little, and the eternal much, so inclined by the eternal weight of glory which attends us, and moved by the hope of so great a reward, the fulfilling of the Law of God prevailed more with him, than his own appetite and inclination.  

§. 2.  
If we shall consider the labours, for which eternal glory is promised us as a hire and reward, the Apostle spoke with great reason, that all, which we can suffer in the time of this life, is no ways worthy of that glory to come, which is to be manifested in us. To St. Austin all the torments of Hell seemed not much for the gaining of Celestial glory but for some short time. And if we consider the greatness of that joy, all the penances of St. Simon Stylites, the fasts of St. Romualdus, the poverty and nakedness of St. Francis, and the scorns and affronts put upon St. Ignatius, are no more than the taking up of a straw for the gaining of an earthly Empire. All Stories are full for how small matters upon earth men have exposed themselves to great and almost certain dangers. Because David caused it to be published in his Army, that he that should first set upon the Jebuseans, who were the hardiest of all his Enemies, should be made General, Joab doubted not to expose his life to manifest danger, breaking through the Pikes and Lances to obtain that honour at the price of his own blood. Because King Saul published in the Army, that he would give his Daughter in Matrimony to him, that should overcome the Giant Goliath, there being none found that durst attempt it, David slighted all danger in hopes of obtaining such a recompense. What have not men attempted to gain a terrestrial reward? Nothing hath seemed much unto them. For the gaining then of Heaven all things ought to seem little unto a Christian. Seneca wondered at what Soldiers did and suffered for so short and transitory Kingdoms as are those of the Earth, and that not for themselves, but for another. Much more may we wonder that the sufferings and labours of this life, by which we are to gain the Kingdom of Heaven, not for a stranger, but for ourselves, seem so great and grievous unto us. What did not Jesbaam perform for the advancing of the Kingdom of David, though he was esteemmed a poor wretch and a dastard? 
2 Reg. 23. & 1. Paralip. 11. Vid. Sanctium & Tirinum. 2 Reg. 23.  seeing that the Kingdom of David lay at stake, he took such courage, that he set upon 800 men, and slew them in his first fury: and at another occasion he killed 300. For the same Kingdom of David Eleazar Son of Ahostes fought with such constancy and valour, that he slew innumerable Philistines, continuing the Battle until he was so weary, that he was not able to move his arm no longer, and it remained so stiff with weariness, as if it had been of stone. If for a Kingdom of another Man's Dominions these men were so valiant, why do not we take courage, and procure with great valour to make conquest of the Kingdom of Heaven, though we lose all our strength, and even our lives in the Conquest, since in respect of it all toil and labour is nothing? For the advancing then of the Kingdom of David his worthies performed such actions, as, if they were not authorised by holy Scripture, might seem incredible. But what speak I of advancing his Kingdom? when only to satisfy a gust of his, and perhaps an impertinent one, which was to drink of the water in the Cisterns of Bethleem, the young men threw themselves into the thickest of the Enemy's Squadrons, and with their naked swords cutting a passage through the midst of the Army fetched the desired waters. If men undergo such hazards for the Kingdom, nay for the pleasure of another, and that momentary, what ought we to do for those eternal joys, which are to be our own, and for the Kingdom of Heaven, wherein we expect such immense honours, riches, and pleasures? Why do we not all take heart and courage? It is the Kingdom of Heaven we hope for, joys, riches, and honours eternal are those, which are promised us. All is but little what can be suffered in time to obtain the same. Semma for the defence of a poor field sowed with lentils durst fight alone against an Army of the Philistians. 
2 Reg. 23.  For the defence then of grace, which is the seed of God, and to assure our glory, which is the fruit of the Passion of Christ, it is not much, if without shedding of blood we fight against our unruly appetites, and conquer our corrupt nature in this life, that we may render it more perfect in the other. To this purpose the consideration of glory is most powerful, having still before our eyes Heaven, which is promised us. And let not the eternal reward proposed by Christ be less efficacious than the temporal proposed by Man. This was signified by our Lord unto the Prophet Ezechiel in those four living creatures so much different in nature, 
Ezek. 1.  but all one in their employment and puesto, to wit, an Eagle, a Lion, an Ox, and a Man, which he beheld in the middle of the air, flying with each one four wings as swift as a flash of lightning. What thing could so force the heavy nature of an Ox, as to equal the flight of an Eagle? or what could associate the fierce nature of a Lion with the gentleness of a Man? The same Prophet declares it, saying, that they carried Heaven on their heads, having the Firmament above them; Because if Heaven be in our thoughts, it will encourage us to all things: It will make material Men equal unto Angels, and subject them unto reason, who in their customs are brutish as wild beasts; so as he, who is slow and heavy as an Ox, shall fly with four wings: and by conquering his own nature become in his flight equal to the birds of the air: and he, which feeds groveling upon the earth, shall elevate himself, and quit his short and transitory pleasures for those which are eternal.   

§ 3.  
Neither is this much. For so great is the good, which we expect, that for it to be deprived of all other goods whatsoever ought to be esteemed a happiness, and to suffer all torments and afflictions as a pleasure. Let us hear what St. chrysostom says. 
Chrysost. Tom. 5. Hom. 19  How many labours soever thou shalt pass, how many torments soever thou shalt endure, all are nothing in respect of those goods to come. Let us hear also what St. Vincent Martyr said unto Dacianus the Precedent, and with what joy and patience in his torments he confirmed what he had spoken. When they hoist him up on high upon the Rack, and the Tyrant in a scoff demanded of him, where he than was, the Saint smiling and beholding Heaven, whither he was going, answered, I am aloft, and from thence can despise thee, although insolent and puffed up with the power thou hast upon Earth. Being after menaced with more cruel torments, he said, Methinks thou dost not threaten, but court me, Dacianus, with what I desire with all the powers and faculties of my Soul. And when they tore his flesh with hooks and pincers, and burned him with lighted torches, he cried out with great joy, In vain thou weariest thyself, Dacianus, thou canst not imagine torments so horrid, which I could not suffer. Prison, Pincers, Burning-plates of iron, and Death itself are unto Christians sports and recreations, and not torments. He who had the joys of Heaven before his eyes scorned and laughed at the bitterest torments upon Earth. Let us consider them also, and we shall not shun the sufferance of any thing, whereby we may gain Heaven. What pity is it, that a Christian for some short and sordid pleasure should lose joys so great and eternal: because he will not bear some slight injury here, should be deprived of celestial honour there: for not paying what he owes, and not restoring what he hath unjustly taken, should forfeit the divine riches of Heaven: and for one pleasant morsel, which the Devil offers him, should deprive himself of that great Supper, whereunto God invites him? Who would choose rather to feed upon bones and craps, which fell from the Table, than to he a Guest at the Banquet, and feed upon the choicest and most savoury dishes? That which the world offers in her best pleasures, is but shells, offals, and parings; but that whereunto God invites us, is a full Table, wherein may be satisfied the most eager hunger of humane appetite. With reason it is called in holy Scripture the great Supper, and in some places the Nuptial Supper, by reason of that satiety, which nothing upon earth can give us. It is called also a Supper, and not a Dinner, because after dinner we use to rise, and go about other occasions and employments, but after supper there are no more labours; all is rest and repose. The principal dish, which is served in at this great Supper, is the clear vision of God, and all his Divine perfections; after that a thousand joys of the Soul in all its powers and faculties: then a thousand pleasures of the senses, with all the endowments of a glorified Body. These latter are as it were the Desert of this Divine Banquet. And if the Desert be such, what shall be the substance of the Feast? What comparison then betwixt those great and eternal goods of Heaven, and those which the World gives us? Certainly they are not worthy to be called so much as the shells of happiness.  
It is much to be reflected on, that those who enjoyed not that great Supper, which is a figure of glory, were not deprived of it by doing any thing, which was a sin in itself. For one excused himself, because he had bought a Farm: another because he was to prove his Oxen: a third because he was married: none of which were sins; but for the preferring those things before the Kingdom of Heaven, which being an incredible madness and blindness, made them not worthy to be admitted. And truly all those, who are wholly taken up and employed in the things of the Earth, do no other than perferre the scraps and parings of a poor and rustic Dinner before the Royal Feast of a powerful King. Moreover although God had not invited us most miserable and vile worms unto a Supper of so infinite sweetness, but had only promised us the crumbs, which fell from his Table, yet ought we to have preferred them before the contents and commodities of this World. Let us fear lest even in lawful pleasures there may be danger. For as the evils of sin are the cause of damnation, so the goods of the world may be the occasion of sin. Let us look only towards Heaven: let us open our eyes and consider, that those who were called by God to some especial vocation, and did not embrace it, are introduced by holy Scripture as damned, and forsaken by God; though their sin is not named, as it appears in these three, who were invited; But much more to our terror in that young man in the Gospel, who having demanded of Christ our Redeemer, What he should do to gain eternal life, and being answered, That he should keep the Commandments of the Law, which he replied he had done from his youth, Yet because the Lord called him by a special vocation to a greater perfection, which was to leave all and follow him, he went his way sorrowful, because he had much riches; whereupon our Saviour pronounced that memorable and terrible Sentence, That it was easier for a Camel to enter the eye of a needle, than for a rich man to enter the Kingdom of Heaven; signifying thereby, that although he had kept the Commandments, yet he was excluded Heaven. For those, whom our Saviour favours with particular inspirations and callings, do not assure their salvation by a desire to keep the Commandments, but by endeavouring to observe the Evangelical counsels, quitting not only sins and the occasions of sinning, but the impediments of virtue and perfection, by which they might not only more assure Heaven, but also obtain more glory; and if they do it not, may justly fear lest they may so much disoblige God Almighty by despising his vocation, that he will not vouchsafe to grant them the efficacious helps of keeping his Commandments. Little is all which can be done for the gaining of Heaven, little what is suffered, little what is forsaken, little all the care to obtain it, little what caution not to lose it, little what impediments are to to be avoided, little what austerities of life we undergo to assure it. And if we judge not so in this valley of tears, let the Saints judge in Heaven, who are of a different opinion from those upon earth. 
D. Mig. l. 3. de Vit. Isabel. c. 9  St. Teresa of Jesus appearing upon an occasion to that blessed woman Isabel of St. Dominick, this most observant religious woman begged pardon of the Saint for a disgust that she persuaded herself she had given her, when being Prioress of Pastrana she put up a very narrow Grate, where the Nuns were to hear Mass. To some it seemed over-streight, as also to St. Teresa, and she would have taken it away, but did not do it, because the Prioress Isabel replied unto her, saying, It was not convenient, that being so nigh to Secular people they might be seen by them. But the Saint being now dead and glorious, Isabel of St. Dominick was much afflicted to consider that by her replying she had displeased her holy Mother. The Saint answered her, saying: Some things here do appear unto me far different. And doubtless in Heaven things will appear far otherways, where all care and solicitude in not offending God will seem little, and what ever negligence and hindrance in his service will appear grievous.    

CAP. VIII.  
Of Evils eternal: and especially of the great Poverty, Dishonour, and Ignominy of the Damned.  
WE have not only reason to despise the Goods of the World from the consideration of Heaven, but the Evils also from that of Hell, in comparison of which all temporal evils are to be esteemed as happiness and blessings, and all the happiness and contents of Earth to be abhorred as evils, at least if they any ways dispose to those eternal torments, and that perpetual privation of joys without end. And truly such are the two extremes which attend us after life, that either of them were sufficient to make us despise all Goods and Evils temporal whatsoever. But joynning the privation of the joys of Heaven with the condemnation unto the torments of Hell, 'tis admirable how any can delight in the things of this life, and not tremble at what may succeed. By reason of this danger we ought to abhor and spit at the pleasures and goods of this life, and to admit and embrace, if occasion be, the greatest evils of it, and to contemn both the one and the other, neither loving the goods, nor fearing the evils. Yet certainly the goods of the World are so much more to be despised than the evils, as they usually are the greater occasions of sin, and so consequently of eternal damnation. The holy Scriptures and Writings of Saints are full of menaces against the Rich, the Prosperous, and the Lovers of the World, who are those, which for the most part people Hell. The Prophet Baruch says; 
Baruc. 3.  Where are the Princes of the Nations, which commanded over the beasts of the earth, and sported with the birds of the air, which store up silver and gold, in which men put their trust: and there is no end of their seeking? who stamp and work silver, who are solicitous, and their works are not found? They are exterminated, they have sunk down into hell, 
Jac. 5.  and others have risen in their places. St. James says, Weep you, who are rich, and lament the miseries which are to fall upon you. St. Paul not only threatens those who are rich, but those who desire to be so, saying, Those who desire to be rich fall into the snare and temptation of the Devil, 
1 Tim. 6.  and into many unprofitable and hurtful desires, which drown them in death and perdition. With this counterpoise then and hazard who would desire the wealth of the World, since only the desire of it is so poisonous? Let those who dote upon the World hear St. Bernard, 
Bernard. in Medit.  who says, Tell me now, Where are those lovers of the world, who a little while ago were here with us? there is nothing remaining of them but dust and worms. Mark diligently what they once were, and what they now are. They were men, as thou now art, they did eat, drink, laugh, and pass away their times in mirth and jollity, and in a moment of time sunk down into hell. Here are their Bodies eaten by worms, and their Souls condemned to eternal flames, until united again they both shall sink together into everlasting fire, that so those who were companions in sin, may be also in torments, and that one pain involve them, who were consorts in the love of the same offence. What did their vain glory profit them, their short mirth, their worldly power, their fleshly pleasure, their false riches, their numerous families? where is now their laughter, their jests, their boasting, their arrogance? how great shall be their sorrow, when such misery shall succeed so many pleasures: when from the height of humane glory they shall fall into those grievous torments and eternal ruin, where according to what the Wiseman said, the mighty shall be mightily punished?  
If then those, who most enjoy the World, run the greatest hazard of being damned, what can more induce us to the contempt of it, than the consideration of so lamentable an end? And what can more set forth the malice of temporal goods, than to be the occasion of eternal evils? If a curious built house be subject to some notable inconveniency, no man will dwell in it; if a courageous horse have some vicious quality, no body will buy him; and if a Crystal cup have a crack, it shall not be placed upon a Royal Cupboard; yet the pleasures and goods of the World, though subject to all those faults, how are they coveted, loved, and sought after, and in them our perdition? Certainly, if we should consider seriously the eternal evils, which correspond to the short pleasures of this life, we should have all humane felicity in horror, and trembling to see ourselves in fortunes favour should fly from the world as from death. The reverend and zealous Father Friar Jordan, being desirous to convert a certain Cavalier to God and from the love of the world, for his last remedy had recourse unto this consideration. Seeing him a beautiful young man, active, and well disposed of body, he said unto him: At least Sir, since God hath bellowed so comely a face and personage upon you, think what pity it were they should be the food of eternal fire, and burn without end. The Gentleman reflected upon his advice; and this consideration wrought so much with him, that abhorring the world, and quitting all his possessions and hopes, he became poor in Christ, and entered into Religion.  

§. 2.  
Let us now come to the consideration of Eternal Evils. that from thence we may despise all which is temporal, be it good or bad. The evils of Hell are truly evils, and so purely such, that they have no mixture of good. In that place of unhappiness all is eternal sorrow and complaint, and there is no room for comfort. 
Aelian. lib. 3. varia: Hist. c. 18.  Aelian relates a History, which being taken as a Parable, may serve to illustrate what we are about to speak of. He says in the utmost borders of the Meropes there is a cetrain place called Anostos, which is as much to say, from whence there is no return. There was to be seen a great Precipice, and a deep opening of the earth, from whence issued two Rivers, the one of Joy, and the other of Sadness: upon the brinks of which grew divers trees of so different fruits, that those who eat of the one, forgot all that might cause grief, but those who eat of the other were so possessed with an unconsolable sadness, that all was weeping and lamentations, until they at last died with signs and shedding of tears. What do those Rivers signify, but the one of them that, whereof David speaks, which with his current rejoiced the City of God: the other that Flood of evil, which enters the Prison of Hell, and fills it with groans, tears, and despite without the least hope of comfort? for there shall the door be eternally shut to all good or expectation of ease; in so much as one drop of water was denied the rich Glutton from so merciful and pitiful a man as Abraham. There shall not be the least good that may give ease, nor shall there want a concourse of all evils which may add affliction. There is no good to be found there, where all goods are wanting: neither can there be want of any evil, where all evils whatsoever are to be found; and by the want of all good, and the collection of all evils every evil is augmented. In the creation of the World God gave a praise to every nature, saying, It was good without farther exaggeration; but when all were created and joined together, he said They were very good, because the conjunction of many goods advances the good of each particular: and in the same manner the conjunction of many evils makes all of them worse. What shall Heaven then be, where there is a concourse of all goods, and no evils? And what Hell, where there are all evils, and no good? Certainly the one must be exceeding good, and the other exceeding evil. In signification of which the Lord shown unto the Prophet Jeremias two little Baskets of Figs: 
Jer. 24.  in the one of which were excessively good ones, and in the other excessively bad, both in extremity. He does not content himself in saying they were bad, or very bad: but says, they were over-bad: because they represented the miserable state of the Damned, where is to be the sink of all evils without mixture of any good at all. And for this reason it is not a sufficient expression to say, they are evils: but they are to be termed evils excessively great.  
No man will admire this, who knows the grievousness of a mortal sin; for committing of which, as he is a man, he deserves hell, and as he is Christian, (according to St. Austin) a new hell: that is, an Infidel merits one hell, and a Christian two, who knowing Christ incarnate and crucified for him durst yet sin and offend him. Sin is an excessive evil, because it is an infinite evil: and therefore it is not too much, if it be chatized with infinite evils. It is an evil, which is greater than the whole collection of all other evils; and for this reason 'tis not too much rigour, that the sinner should be chastised with the collection of all evils together. Those who wonder at the terribleness of eternal pains, know not the terribleness of sin. Whereupon St. Austin says; 
Aug. lib. 21. c. 12.  Therefore the eternal pains seem hard and injust unto humane apprehension, because in the weakness of our natural understanding the sense of that eternal wisdom is wanting, by which might be perceived the great malice of the first prevatication. If then for that first sin committed, when Christ had not yet died for man, eternal damnation was not thought too much, what shall it be, when we know that our Redeemer was so gracious as to give his life, because we should not sin? From the necessity of so costly and precious a Medicine may be collected the greatness of the infirmity. I say the greatness, and danger of a disease is known by the extraordinary remedies which are applied unto it, and by the things which are sought out for the cure, and without which the malady would be without remedy. We may therefore gather the infinite malice of a mortal sin, because there was no other means sufficient, but one so extraordinary, as was God to become Man, and give his own life for Man, dying a death so shameful, and painful as he did: offering a price so great, as was the excessive worth and infinite price of his merits and passion. Sin is an injury against God; and as the injury increases according to the greatness and worth of the person offended, so, God being infinite, the injury becomes of infinite malice: and as God is a good, which includes all goods, so a mortal sin, which is an injury done unto him, is a mischief which exceeds all evils, and aught to be punished with all pains and torments.   

§ 3.  
Let us now consider the several sorts of pains in Hell, and the greatness of them. In the Roman Laws according to Tully and Albertus Magnus we find mentioned eight several kinds of punishments: 
Alber. Mag. l. 7. Comp. Theolog. c. 22.  which are The punishment of Loss, when one is mulcted in his goods, The punishment of Infamy, Banishment, Imprisonment, Slavery, Whipping, Death, and the punishment of Talion. To these may be reduced all the rest; and we shall find the Divine Justice to exercise them all upon those, who have despised his mercy, and injured his infinite bounty and goodness. In the first place there is the pain of Loss, and that so rigorous, that the depriving the damned Soul of one only thing, they take from him all good things; For they deprive him of God, in whom they are all comprised. This is the greatest pain that can be imagined. O how miserable and poor must the damned Soul be, who hath lost God for all eternity? He, who is condemned by humane Laws to the loss of his goods, may, if he live, gain others, at least in another Kingdom, if he fly thither; but he who is deprived of God, where shall he find another God? and who can fly from Hell? God is the greatest good, and it is therefore the greatest evil to be deprived of him; Because (as St. John Damascen says) evil is the privation of good, and that is to be esteemed the greatest evil, which is a privation of the greatest good, which is God, and must certainly therefore cause more grief and resentment in the Damned, than all the torments and punishments of Hell besides. And in regard there is in Hell an eternal privation of God, who is the chief Good, the pain of Loss, whereby one is deprived for ever of the greatest of all goods, this privation will cause the greatest pain and torment. If the burning of a hand cause an insufferable pain, by reason that the excessive heat deprives the Body of its natural temper, and good constitution, which is but a poor and short good, how shall he be tormented, who is deprived and eternally separated from so great a Good as is God? If a bone displaced or out of joint causeth intolerable grief, because it is deprived of his due state and place, what shall it cause in a rational creature, to lie eternally separated from God, who is the chief end, for which he was created? 
Chrys. 24. in Math. Tom. 2. fol. 82, p. 2.  St. chrysostom gives us some understanding of this grief, when he says, He, who burns in Hell, loses also the Kingdom of Heaven, which is certainly a greater punishment than that torment of flames. I know many who are afraid of Hell; but I dare confidently say, that the amission of glory is far more bitter than all those pains, which are to be suffered in Hell. And no wonder that this cannot be expressed in words, since we know not well the happiness of those divine rewards, by the want of which we ought also to measure the infelicity of their loss; but we shall then without doubt learn, when we are taught by sad experience. Then our eyes shall be opened; then the vail shall be taken away; then shall the wicked perceive to their greater grief and confusion the difference betwixt that eternal and chief good, and the frail and transitory pleasures of this life. If St. chrysostom says this of the loss of the reward of eternal happiness, that it is a greater evil, than the torment of hell fire: what shall the loss of God be, not only as our Good, but also for as much that in himself he is the chief Good, of which the damned are to be deprived for all eternity.  
Moreover this condemnation of a Sinner unto the loss of God, and all which is good, shall extend so far, that he shall be deprived even of the hope of what is good, and shall be left for ever in that profound poverty and necessity, without expectation of remedy or relief. What greater want can any one have, than to want all things, and even hope of obtaining any thing? We are amazed at the poverty of holy Job, who from a Prince and a rich man came to lie upon a dunghill, having nothing left but a piece of a broken pot to scrape away the putrefaction from his sores. But even this shall fail the damned, who would take it for a great Regalo to have a dunghill for their bed instead of the burning coals of that eternal fire. Neither shall they be Masters so much as of that broken pot, wherein to contain a little water, if it might be given them. 
Jsai. 30.  For, as Isaias says, There shall not remain unto them so much as the shred of a broken pot to hold a little water from the pit, nor shall there be any found to give it them. That rich Glutton in the Gospel, accustomed to drink in Cups of Crystal, to eat in Silver, and to be clothed in Silks and curious Linens, can tell us how far this infernal poverty extends, when he demanded not wines of Candie, but a little cold water, and that not in Cups of Gold or Crystal, but upon the finger's end of a Leper. This rich and nice Glutton came to such an extremity, that he would esteem it a great felicity, that they would give him but one drop of water, although it were from the filthy and loathsome finger of a Leper; and yet this also was wanting unto him. Let the rich of the World see to what poverty they are like to come, if they trust in their riches; let them know that they shall be condemned to the loss of all which is good. Let them reflect upon him, who was accustomed to be clothed in precious Garments, to tread upon Carpets, to sleep upon Down, to dwell in spacious Palaces, now naked thrown upon burning coals, and packed up in some narrow corner of that infernal Dungeon. Let us therefore fear the riches of this World, and the poverty of the other.   

§. 4.  
This poverty or want of all good of the damned is accompanied with a most opprobrious infamy and dishonour, when by public sentence they shall be deprived for their enormous offences of eternal glory, and reprehended in the presence of Saints and Angels by the Lord of Heaven and Earth. This infamy shall be so great, that St. Chrysostom speaks of it in these words. A most intolerable thing is Hell, 
Chrys. in Math. 24.  and most horrible are the torments; yet if me should place a thousand Hells before me, nothing could be so horrible unto me, as to be excluded from the honour of glory, to be hated of Christ, and to hear from him these words, I know you not. This infamy we may in some sort declare under the example of a mighty King, who having no Heir to succeed him in his Kingdom took up a beautiful Boy at the Church door, and nourished him as his Son, and in his Testament commanded, that if at ripe years his conditions were virtuous and suitable to his calling, he should be received as lawful King, and seated in his Royal Throne; but if he proved vicious and unfit for Government, they should punish him with infamy, and send him to the Galleys. The Kingdom obeyed this Command, provided him excellent Masters and Tutors; but he became so untoward and ill-inclined, that he would learn nothing, fling away his books, spent his time amongst other Boys in making houses of dirt, and other childish fooleries: for which his Governors corrected and chastised him, and advised him of what was fitting and most imported him; but all did no good: only when they reprehended him, he could weep, not because he repent, but because they hindered his sport: and the next day did the same. The more he grew in age, the worse he became; and although they informed him of the King's Testament, and what behoved him, all was to no purpose; until at last after all possible care and diligence his Tutors, and the whole Kingdom weary of his ill conditions, in a public Assembly declared him unworthy to reign, despoiled him of his Royal Ornaments, and condemned him with infamy unto the Galleys. What greater affront and ignominy can there be, than this, to lose a Kingdom, and to be made a Galleyslave? for I do not know which of these things that young man would be more sensible of. More ignominious and a more lamentable Tragedy is that of a Christian condemned to Hell, who was taken by God from the gates of death, adopted his Son, with condition that, if he kept his Commandments, he should reign in Heaven, and if not, he should be condemned to Hell. Yet he forgetting these obligations without respect of his Tutors and Masters, who were the holy Angels, especially his Angel Guardian, who failed not to instill into him holy inspirations, and other learned and spiritual men, who exhorted him both by their doctrine and example what was fitting for a Child of God; But he neither moved by their advices, nor the chastisements of Heaven, by which God overthrew his vain intentions, and thwarted his unlawful pleasures, only lamented his temporal losses, and not his offences: and at the time of his death was sentenced to be deprived of the Kingdom of Heaven, and precipitated into Hell. What infamy can be greater than this of the damned Soul? for if it be a great infamy to suffer death by Humane Justice for some crimes committed, how great an infamy will it be to be condemned by Divine Justice for a Traitor and perfidious Rebel to God? Besides this bitterness of pains the damned persons shall also be eternally branded with the infamy of their offences; so as they shall be scorned and scoffed at by the Devils themselves, and not only Devils, but all rational creatures; Men and Angels shall detest them, as infamous and wicked Traitors to their King, God, and Redeemer. 
Jsai. 13. Fancies combustae vultus eorum.  And as fugitive Slaves are marked and cauterised with burning irons, so this infamy by some special mark of ugliness and deformity shall be stamped upon their faces, and bodies; so as Albertus Magnus says; so ignominious shall be the body of a Sinner, that when his Soul returns to enter it, it shall be amazed to behold it so horrible, and shall wish it were rather in the same state, as when it was half eaten up by worms.    

CAP. IX.  
The Punishment of the Damned from the horribleness of the place, into which they are banished from Heaven, and made Prisoners in Hell.  
ANother kind of punishment of great discomfort and affliction is that of Exile, which the Damned shall suffer in the highest degree. For they shall be banished into the profound bowels of the Earth, a place most remote from Heaven, and the most calamitous of all others, where they shall neither see the Sun by day, nor the Stars by night, where all shall be horror and darkness; and therefore it was said of that condemned person, Cast him forth into utter darkness, forth of the City of God, forth of the Heavens, forth of this World, where he may never more appear, into that land, which is called in the Book of Job, A dark land, 
Job. 10.  covered with the obscurity of death, a land of misery and darkness, where the shadow of death, and no order, but everlasting horror inhabits: a land, according to Isaias, 
Jsai. 34.  of sulphur and burning pitch, a land of pestilence and corruption, and a land of uncleanness and misery. 
S. Tho. in 4. Sent.  St. Thomas says, that in the last purification of the World there shall be a separation made in the Elements, in such a manner, as the pure and refined parts shall remain above for the glory of the Blessed, and the impure dross and dregs shall be thrown into Hell for the punishment of the Damned. Wherefore as every creature is matter of joy to the Blessed, so every creature shall add unto the torments of the Damned. This appertains unto Divine Justice, that as separating themselves by sin from him, who is one, they placed their ends in material things, which are many: so from many things they should receive their affliction. Into this Sewer and Sink of all the Elements, into this land of punishment and torments shall be banished the enemies of God.  
The punishment of Exile was most grievous unto the Roman Citizens, when for some enormous fault they were cast forth of the City, and banished into some desolate Island or barbarous Nation. Ovid, when he was sent into Pontus, did not cease from lamenting his misfortune, still sighing after his own Country. And Cicero, when he returned from banishment, as if he had entered into a new World, whereof they had made him Lord, cried out with admiration and joy, O what beauty is this of Italy! what civility of People! what Fields! what Vines, and Crops of Corn! what decency of the City! what humanity of the Citizens! what dignity of the Commonwealth! If men were thus transported by the difference betwixt some Countries and others, and betwixt some Men and others, what difference shall the Damned find betwixt Heaven and Hell, and betwixt the conversation of Angels and of Devils? What a grief shall it be to see themselves deprived of the Palaces of Heaven, the society of Saints, and that happy Country of the Living, where all is peace, quietness, charity, and joy, where all shines, all pleases, and all parts resound with Alleluja's? David being absent from his Country amongst barbarous Nations, although his life were preserved by his banishment, yet could not choose but resent it as his death. And the People of Juda, whilst they remained in Babylon, thought it impossible for them to sing (being an action of mirth) whilst they were in a strange Country. Certainly if the Damned had no other punishment, than to see themselves banished amongst Devils into a place far distant from Heaven, sad as night, without the sight or comfort of Sun or Moon for all eternity, it were a torment unsufferable.  

Seneca. Justin. Valerius. Suidas.  It was a great Tyranny in Alexander after he had cut of the nose, ears, and lips of Calisthenes, to cast so worthy a person into a Dungeon, only accompanied with a dog. A spectacle indeed lamentable, to see so discreet a man used like a brute, and not have the company of one, who might comfort him. But the Damned would take it as a favour to have the company of Dogs or Lions rather than that of their own Parents. The Tyrants of Japonia invented a strange torment for those who confessed Christ. They hung them with their heads downwards, half their bodies into a hole digged in the earth, which they filled with Snakes, Lizards, and other poisonous vermin. But even those were better companions than those infernal Dragons of the pit of Hell, whereunto not half, but the whole body of the miserable sinner shall be plunged. The Romans when they punished any as a Parricide, 
Isid. l. 5. Etymo. c. 47.  to express the heinousness of the fact, shut him up in a Sack with a Serpent, an Ape, and a Cock. What a horror shall it be in Hell, where a damned person shall be shut up with so many malicious spirits? Here if a house be haunted with a Goblin, none dare dwell in it; There they shall be forced to dwell with millions of Devils. Here none will live near a Pest-house, or ill Neighbours. Think upon what neighbourhood is in Hell. Cato counselled those, who were to take a Farm, to have a special care what Neighbours it had. And Themistocles being to sell a certain Manor, 
Plutar. in Them.  caused the Crier to proclaim, That it had good Neighbours. How comes one then to purchase Hell at so dear a rate, as the price of his Soul, having such cursed Neighbours, where all scoff and decide him, all will abhor him, all will be irksome and troublesome, their disquietness and ranting will be insufferable, and the very sight and ugliness of them will fright and astonish him? How grievous is the banishment into that place, where none wishes well unto another: where the Fathers hate their Sons, and the Sons abhor their Fathers? This may appear by this example, which is rehearsed in the lives of the Ancient Fathers of the Desert. A Son of an Usurer being converted to penance by a Sermon, wherein that vice was reprehended, begged of his Father and of another Brother of his, that forsaking that infamous vice they would restore all that they had unlawfully gained. They not harkening to him, but, as they use to say, being deaf of that ear, he retired into the Wilderness, and became a Monk in company of other Servants of Almighty God. His Father and Brother died without repentance of their sins. The holy Monk was much afflicted for the miserable condition he feared they were in, and begged earnestly of Almighty God, he would please to reveal unto him their state and condition. Being one day persisting in this prayer, an Angel appeared unto him, and taking him by the hand, carried him to the top of a high Mountain, from whence he discovered a deep valley full of fire, whence having first heard a fearful cry, he presently saw his Father, who boiled in the fire like a pea in a boiling pot, and his Brother swimming as it were in the flames now above, and now below. The Son spoke unto his Father, saying: Cursed be thou (Father) for all eternity, because by an unjust inheritance thou hast been the cause of my damnation. And the Father answered him: Cursed be thou, Son; for to the end I might leave thee a rich Inheritance, I stuck not to gain it by unjust means. They disappeared, and the Monk much astonished returned home to his Monastery, where he lived in very rigorous penance till death. In other banishments, when Parents or Friends meet in a Country far from home, they endeavour to comfort one another, and even enemies are then reconciled. But in this banishment of Hell friends abhor Friends, and Parents hate, and are hated by their Children.  

§ 2.  
To this may be added, that in this banishment of the Damned the exiles are not allowed the liberty of other banished persons, who within the Isle or Region of relegation may go or move whither they please: but not so the Damned in Hell; because the place of their exile is also a Prison, that so this grievous sort of punishment may be also added to their other torments. Hell is the Prison of God, a most rigorous Prison, horrid, and stinking, wherein so many millions of men shall for ever lie fettered in chains: for chains, or something answerable unto them shall not there be wanting. Whereupon St. Austin says, and is followed by the Schoolmen, 
Aug. l. 1. de Civit. Cap. 10.  that the malign spirits shall be fastened to fire or certain fiery bodies, from which the pain which they receive shall be incredible, being thereby deprived of their natural liberty, 
V Lesle. de Perfec. Divin. l. 13. c. 30.  as it were fettered with manacles and bolts, so as they are not able to remove from that place of mishap and misery. It were a great torment to have burning irons cast upon our hands and feet; but this and much more shall be in Hell, where those fiery bodies, which are to serve instead of shackles and fetters, are (as grave Doctors affirm) to be of terrible forms proportionable unto their offences, and shall with their very sight affright them.  
Besides, the bodies of the Damned after the final Judgement past shall be so straightened and crowded together in that infernal Dungeon, that the holy Scripture compares them to grapes in the Wine-press, which press one another until they burst. Most inhuman was that torment inflicted upon three Fathers of the Society of Jesus by their Enemies at Mastrick. They put certain rings of iron stuck full of sharp points of needles about their arms and feet, in such manner as they could not move without pricking and wounding themselves. Then they compassed them about with fire, to the end that standing still they might be burnt alive: and if they stirred, the sharp points pierced their flesh with more intolerable pains than the fire. What shall then be that torment of the Damned, where they shall eternally burn without dying, and without possibility of removing from the place designed them? where whatsoever they touch shall be fire and sulphur; into which their bodies shall at the latter day be plunged, as their souls at present swim in the middle of that lake or pond of fire, (as the Scripture calls it) like fishes in the Sea, which enters into their very substance more than the water into the mouth, nose, and ears of him who is drowned.  
Neither shall unsavoury smells, so proper unto Prisons, be wanting in that infernal Dungeon. For first that fire of sulphur being penned in without vent or respiration shall send forth a most poisonous sent; and if a match of brimstone be so offensive here, what shall such a mass of that stuff be in Hell? Secondly, the bodies of the damned shall cast forth a most horrible stench of themselves, and that more or less according to the quality of their sins. It happened in Lions that a Sexton entering into a certain Vault, where the body of a man not long before dead lay yet uncovered, there issued forth so pestilential, a smell, that the dead man killed the living. If one man's body then cause such a stink, what shall proceed from a million of bodies, which, though alive for their further evil, yet are dead in the second death? besides (as hath been said) all the uncleanness and filth of the World, when it is purified, must fall into that eternal Sink, which shall infinitely increase this noisome quality. Paulus Jovius writes, that the Enemy of mankind Actiolinus the Tyrant had many Prisons full of torments, misery, and ill smells: insomuch as men took it for a happiness rather to die, than to be imprisoned: because being loaden with irons, afflicted with hunger, and poisoned with the pestilential smell of those who died in Prison, and were not suffered to be removed, they came to end in a slow but most cruel death. The Messenians also had a most horrible Prison under earth, full of stench and horror, into which offenders were let down with a cord never after to see the light. But what are these Prisons to that of Hell, in respect of which they may be esteemed as Paradises full of Jessemy and Lilies? 
Victor. Afric. l. 2. de Persec. Vandal.  Victor Africanus relating the torments which the Arian Vandals inflicted upon the holy Martyrs, accounts the stench and noisomness of the Prison to be the most hideous and unsufferable of all the rest. There were, saith he, in one Prison 4996 Martyrs, which was so strait and narrow, that they fling the holy Confessors into it one upon another, who stood like swarms of Locusts, or, to speak more piously, like precious grains of Wheat. In this want of room they had not place to comply with the necessities of nature, but were forced to ease themselves where they stood, which caused so horrid a savour, as exceeded all the rest of their afflictions. One time (saith the Author) giving a good sum of money to the Moors, we had leave, whilst the Vandals slept, to see them, and at our entrance sunk up to the knees in that filth and loathsomeness. It seems that the stink of Hell could not be more lively expressed than in the uncleanness and stench of this Prison; but without doubt all this was but a rough draught and a dead image of that which shall be there, in respect whereof this here was Perfume and Amber.  
If one were cast into some deep dungeon, without , exposed to the inclemency of the cold and moisture of the place, where he should not see the light of Heaven, should have nothing to feed on but once a day some little piece of hard barley bread, and that he were to continue there six years without speaking or seeing of any body, and not to sleep on other bed but the cold ground, what a misery were this? one week of that habitation would appear longer than a hundred years. Yet compare this with what shall be in that banishment and prison of Hell, and you shall find the miserable life of that man to be a happiness. There in all his troubles he should not meet with any to scoff and jest at his misfortunes, none to torment and whip him; but in Hell he shall find both. The Devils shall not cease to deride, whip, and cruelly torment him. There should be no horrid fights, no fearful noises of howl, groan and lamentations. In hell the eyes and ears of the damned shall never be free from such affrights. There should be no flames of fire to scorch him. In hell they shall burn into his very bowels. There he might move and walk. In hell not stir a foot. There he may breathe the air without stink. In hell he shall suck in nothing but flames, stink, and sulphur. There he might hope for coming forth. In hell there is no remedy, no redemption. There that little piece of hard bread would every day seem a dainty. But in hell in Millions of years his eyes shall not behold a crumb of bread, nor a drop of water, but he shall eternally rage's with a doglike hunger, and a burning thirst. This is to be the calamity of that Land of darkness: barren of all things, but of the brambles and thorns of grief and torments.    

CAP. X.  
Of the Slavery, Chastisements, and Pains eternal.  
ANother grievous Punishment amongst the Romans was that of Servitude or Slavery, especially of those, who for some great and heinous offences were condemned as Slaves, not to the service of any particular person, but to undergo such and such punishments: and were therefore called Slaves of Punishment. This miserable slavery is that which the damned are to suffer in Hell, who are condemned to be eternally Slaves of pains and torments, and of their Ministers and Hangmen, the Devils. Those Slaves the Romans esteemed worse than the dead. 
Cuiac. Observe. l. 3. c. 10.  For, besides the loss of liberty, (which is next to that of life,) their condition was most infamous, and their life most miserable. Yet in respect of the slavery of the damned, who are subjected to their pains with all their senses and powers both of soul and body, it might be accounted free and glorious. With their touch they are to serve that burning and never consuming Fire: with their taste Hunger and Thirst: with their smell Stink: with their sight those horrid and monstrous a Shapes, which the Devils shall assume: with their hearing Scorns and Affronts: with their imagination Horror: with their will Loathsomeness and Detestation: with their memory Despair: with their understanding Confusion, with such a multitude of other punishments, as they shall want eyes to weep for them. 
Aelianus lib. 14. C. 22.  Aelianus writes of Trizus the Tyrant, that he commanded his Subjects not to speak together: and when they used signs instead of words, he also forbade those. Whereupon the afflicted people met in the Marketplace at least to weep for their misfortunes. But neither was that permitted. Greater shall be the rigour in Hell, where they shall neither be suffered to speak word of comfort, nor move hand or foot, nor ease their hearts with weeping; neither, if all the pores of their bodies, or hairs of their heads were turned into eyes, would they suffice to do it. Jeremias the Prophet lamented with floods of tears, that Jerusalem, which was the Queen of Nations, should be made a Slave and tributary. What tears are sufficient to lament the damnation of a Christian, who from an Heir and Prince of the Kingdom of Heaven hath made himself a Slave to the Devil and those eternal punishments of Hell, unto which he is to pay as many tributes, as he hath senses, powers, and members? Let us mark how great is the tyranny of the Devil, even over those, who are not his slaves. What rigour and punishments hath he exercised upon those, who are the servants of God? what will he do then upon his own Slaves and Captives? We will only (passing over others) instance in one related by holy Scripture. Let us behold in what grievous manner (having demanded licence from God) the Devil afflicted holy Job, making him from head to foot but one sore, so loathsome and infected, that lying upon a Dunghill he scrapped away the worms and corruption of his wounds with a potsherd: so lean, that only so much flesh remained about the lips of his mouth, as might enable him to speak and answer. The night, which uses to be a refreshment and ease unto the afflictions of others, increased his pains with visions and phantasms. In conclusion his Wife could not endure the noisomness of his putrified body: and his three Friends, who came to visit and comfort him, were so amazed at his affliction, that in seven days they could not speak unto him. From whence we may draw two most important arguments. The first, That if God permitted the Devil so to handle the simplicity, piety, obedience, purity, and sanctity of Job, only to prove him, to convince the Devil, and leave us an example of patience, How will he suffer the Devil to deal with the doubleness, crafty boldness, impudence, and uncleanness of others, who shall be condemned into Hell fire? The second, If the Devils tormenting him, even until he became a Leper, and the most loathsome spectacle that the world ever looked upon, the Scripture only says, That God touched him, attributing to God what the Devil did, as we attribute unto the Judge the torments executed by the Hangmen: when God shall then discharge his whole wrath upon a slave in Hell, what whips, what torments shall fall upon him?  
Let us now come unto the punishment of Whipping, under which is understood all chastisement of pain executed upon evil doers. This was signified unto the Prophet Jeremy, 
Jerem. 1.  when the Lord shown him a rod, (for with rods they anciently whipped offenders) and immediately after a pot of boiling fire, by which was signified hell: giving us to understand that the whipping of Divine Justice shall be executed in the eternal fire of hell. But not rods or scourges, but strong hammers are reserved for Sinners; And therefore the Wiseman said; 
Prov. 19  Smiting hammers are prepared for the bodies of fools; for so the Scripture by Antonomasia calls the damned: because they were such fools, as they knew not how to purchase Heaven at so cheap a rate as God proposes it, and so fell into the eternal torments of hell for a momentary pleasure. 
Surius 14. Apri. in Vit. S. Lidw. 3. p. c. 2.  St. Lidwina heard in hell, amongst groans and complaints, the heavy blows of hammers, with which the damned were most cruelly tormented: signifying by those strokes the violence, with which the Divine Justice falls upon sinners. For as the slaves of the earth are whipped and punished by their masters, so the slaves of hell are tormented by the Devils, who have power and dominion over them. And even as slaves are whipped and chastised by their Masters, so the Torments, treating the damned as their slaves, lay upon them a thousand afflictions, griefs, and miseries. But who shall be able to express the number and greatness of their torments, since all their powers and senses, soul and body are to suffer in a most violent manner? And every member of their body shall suffer greater pain and torment, then if it were torn from the body. If one can not tell how to suffer a toothache, headache, pain in the ear, or the pain of the colic, what will it be, when there shall not be any joint, or the least part in the body, which shall not cause him a most intense pain: not only the head, or teeth, but also the breasts, the side, shoulders; the back, the heart, thighs, the knees, the feet, the nerves, the veins, and all the entrails even to the very bones, and marrow?  

§ 2.  
Besides this, every sense from his particular object shall receive a particular punishment. The eyes shall not be only grieved with a scorching heat, which shall burn their very pupils, but shall be tormented with monstrous and horrible figures. Many have lost their wits through fear of such apparitions, and some their lives. St. Bernard explicating the 90. Psalms, reports that a certain religious person being ready to die beheld two Devils in that horrid and ugly shape, that he cried out as if he had been distracted, Cursed be the hour that I entered into Religion; and then holding his peace, not long after with a quiet and appeased voice and countenance he said; Nay rather blessed be the time that I became of this Order; and ever blessed be the Mother of Christ, whom I have always loved from my heart; And then turning to those who were in prayer, he said unto them, Marvel not at the turbation of my spirit, for two Devils appeared unto me in that monstrous and horrid form, that if there were here a fire of sulphur and melted metal, which were to last unto the day of Judgement, I would sooner pass through the midst of it, than turn again to behold them. If then two Devils caused such amazement, what shall the sight of legions do, each exceeding other in deformity? If the Devil be so ugly and terrible in this life, what shall he be in his proper place of damnation, and especially so many together? Many are affrighted very much passing only through a Churchyard, only for fear of seeing a phantasm; in what a fright will be a miserable damned soul, which shall see so many, and of so horrid shapes? St, Gregory reflecting on that which is spoken in the book of Job, 
Job. 10.  That in Hell shall inhabit everlasting horror, says in this manner; How can there be fear, where there is so much grief? We grieve for a present evil, and fear for that, which is to come: and he who is arrived at the utmost of misery hath nothing more to fear; and not to fear is a kind of good: and no good can happen in Hell. He answers, That as death perpetually killing the damned leaves them alive, that they may die living, so pain torments them, and in such manner affrights them, that they are still in fear of greater succeeding pains. Their fight also shall be tormented with beholding the punishment of their friends and kindred. Egesippus writes that Alexander the Son of Hircanus resolving to punish certain persons with exemplary rigour, caused 800 to be crucified; and whilst they were yet alive; caused their wives and children to be murdered before their eyes, that so they might die not one but many deaths. This rigour shall not be wanting in Hell, where Fathers shall see their Sons, and Brothers their Brothers tormented. The Torment of the eyes shall be also very great, in regard that those, that have given others scandal, and made others fall into sin, shall see themselves and those others in that Abyss of torments. To the sight of these dreadful and grievous apparitions shall be added that nocturnal horror and fearful darkness of the place. Nicholas de Lira says, 
In Exod. 10.  says, that therefore the darkness of Egypt was said to be horrible, because there the Egyptians beheld fearful figures and phantasms, which terrified them. In the like manner in that infernal darkness the eyes shall be tormented with the monstrous and enormous figures of the wicked spirits; which shall appear much more dreadful by reason of the obscurity and sadness of that eternal night.  
The Hearing shall not only be afflicted by an intolerable pain caused by that ever burning and penetrating fire, but also with the fearful and amazing noises of thunders, roar, howl, clamours, groans, curses, and blasphemies. Sylla being Dictator caused six thousand persons to be enclosed in the Circus, and then appointing the Senate to meet in a Temple close by, where he intended to speak unto them about his own affairs, to strike the greater terror into them, and make them know he was their Master, he gave order, that so soon as he began his oration, the Soldiers should kill this multitude of people, which was effected. Upon which were heard such lamentations, outcries, groans, clashing of Armour, and blows of those merciless homicides, that the Senators could not hear a word, but stood amazed with terror of so horrid a fact. Such shall be the harmony of Hell, when the ears shall be deafened with the cries and complaints of the damned. What confusion and horror shall it breed to hear all lament, all complain, all curse and blaspheme through the bitterness of the torments, which they suffer? 
Sur. in ejus vita, 14. Apr.  St. Lidwin being in an ecstasy saw a place so dreadful made of black stone, and of such a depth, that it would fright one to look into it. The Saint heard there within most fearful groans, cries, and howl, noise, and horrible knocking as it were of hammers, wherewith those within were tormented. She was so astonished to hear this, that if all the noise and lamentations of the world were joined together, it would be of no trouble in respect of it. The Angel told her, That was the habitation of the damned. And demanding of her, whither she had any desire to see it: she said, No, she would not see it, because only hearing what there was done, caused her an unsufferable grief.  
The Smell also shall be tormented with a most pestilential stench. Horrible was that torment used by Mezentius, to tie a living body to a dead, and there to leave them until the infection and putrified exhalations of the dead had killed the living. What can be more abominable, than for a living man to have his mouth laid close to that of a dead one, full of grubs and worms: where the living must receive all those pestilential vapours breathed forth from a corrupted carcase, and suffer such loathsomeness, and abominable steneh? But what is this in respect of Hell: when each body of the damned is more loathsome and unsavoury than a million of dead dogs, and all these pressed and crowded together in so straight a compass? Isaias in respect of their stench calls them dead bodies, 
Isai. 34.  when he says: The stench of their carcases shall ascend. And St. Bonaventure goes so far as to say, that if one only body of the damned were brought into this world, it were sufficient to infect the whole earth. Neither shall the Devils send forth a better smell. For although they are spirits, yet those fiery bodies, unto which they are fastened and confined, shall be of a most pestilential savour. And in this manner a Devil, who had appeared unto him, being put to flight by St. Martin, left such an horrible stench behind him, that the Saint deemed himself to be already in hell, and said unto himself: If one only Devil having been here hath caused this, what will all the Devils together, and damned men do? 
Libel. de provide. num. 3.  In the Book of the Doctrine of the Fathers it is written, that a pious Damsel being carried by an Angel to see Hell, she saw her own Mother there put into a Cauldron of boiling pitch up to the neck, and great numbers of vermin swarming in it of a most intolerable stench.  
What shall I then say of the Tongue, which is the instrument of so many ways of sinning, flattery, lying, murmuring, calumniating, gluttony, and drunkenness? who can express that bitterness which the miserable shall suffer, greater than that of wormwood or aloes? insomuch as the Scripture says, The gall of dragons shall be their wine, and they shall taste the poison of Asps for all eternity. Unto which shall be joined an intolerable thirst and doglike hunger; conformable unto which, David said, They shall suffer hunger as dogs. Quintilian says, 
Quintil. Declam. ●2.  That Famine is the most pressing of all necessities, and most deformed of all evils; that Plagues and Wars are happinesses in respect of it. If then a Famine of eight days be the worst of temporal evils, what shall that Famine be which is eternal? Let our Epicures and Belly-Gods hear what the Son of God prophecies; 
Luc. 6.  Woe unto you who are full, for you shall be an hungered; and with such an hunger, as shall be eternal. If the other evils of this world, as Quintilian affirms, may be esteemed not much in comparison of hunger even in this temporal life, what will they be in respect of the hunger of the life to come? Hunger in this life does bring men to such extremities, that not only they come to desire to eat Dogs, Cats, Rats and Mice, Snakes, Toads, Leather, Dung, and eat them in effect: but also Mothers come to eat their own Children, and men the flesh of their own arms, as it fell out to Zeno the Emperor. If hunger be so horrible a mischief in this life, how will it afflict the damned in the other? without all doubt the damned would rather tear themselves in pieces, than suffer it. Neither shall thirst torment them less.  
The sense of Touching, as it is the most extended sense of all the rest, so shall it be the most tormented in that burning fire. 
Bar. add an. 191.  We are amazed to think of the inhumanity of Phalaris, who roasted men alive in his brazen Bull. This was a toy in respect of that fire of Hell, which penetrates the very entrails of the body without consuming them. The burning of a finger only does cause so great a torment, that it is unsufferable; but far greater were it to burn the whole arm: and far greater were it besides the arms to burn the legs: and far more violent torment would it be to burn the whole body. This torment is so great that it cannot be expressed in words, since it includes or comprises as many torments as the body of man hath joints, sinews, arteries, etc. and especially being caused by that so penetrating, and true fire, of which St. Austin says, that this temporal fire is but a painted fire in respect of that in Hell; in so much that the fire of Hell does exceed ours by so many degrees, as a thing in life and reality exceeds the same in a picture. In conformity to what is here said venerable Peter Cluniacensis writes, (and when we read such like stories, from the representations therein contained we are to raise our thoughts to the substance therein represented) This venerable man than writes, That a wicked Priest being ready to give up the ghost, there appeared unto him two fiery Devils, who brought with them a Frying-pan, in which they told him they would fry him in Hell; and a drop of hot liquor then falling out of the Frying-pan upon his hand in a moment burned him to the very bones in the sight of all that were present, who remained astonished to see the efficacy, and violence of that infernal fire. Whereupon Nicholas of Nice says, that if there were a fire made of all the wood in the world, it would not be able to cause so much torment, as the least spark of Hell-fire. Caesarius does also write, 
Caesar. l. 12. mirac. c. 23.  That Theodosius Bishop of Mastrick had a Servant by name Eberbach, who in a raging fit of anger gave himself to the Devil, upon condition he would help him to take revenge upon his Enemies. Some years after this man fell grievously sick of a disease, that brought him to the point of death; and being now dead in all men's judgement, his soul was cast into a sea of fire, where he remained suffering until such time as an Angel of Heaven came unto him, and said, Behold what they are to suffer, that serve the Devil. But if so great a mercy should be showed unto thee, as to grant thee longer life, wouldst thou not spend it in doing penance for thy sins? He replied, There can be nothing so hard or painful, which I would not undergo to escape this torment. Then the Lord used that mercy to him, as to let him return to the use of life and senses, and rising off the Bier, where he was already placed to be carried to burial, all that were present were astonished at him: who at the same instant began a course of life of most austere and rigorous penance. He went barefoot upon thorns and briers, store of blood issuing from the wounds received. He lived only on bread and water, and that in a very small quantity. What money he had, he gave to the poor. There were many, who wondering at the rigour of his penance, endeavoured to moderate the excess of his fervour and austerities; to whom he answered, Wonder not hereat; for I have suffered torments of a far different kind: and if you had been there, you would frame a far different apprehension of them: And for to explicate the excessive torment that fire caused, he said, That if all the trees in the world were put in one heap and set on fire, I would rather burn there till the day of judgement, than suffer only for the space of one hour that fire, which I have experienced. Now what a miserable unhappiness will it be to burn in those flames of Hell not only for one hour, but till the day of Judgement, yea even for all eternity, and world without end? Who would not esteem it an hideous torment, if he were to be burnt alive an hundred times, and his torment were to last every time for an hours space? with what compassionate eyes would all the world look upon such a miserable wretch? Nevertheless without all doubt any of the damned in Hell would receive this as a great happiness to end his torments with those hundred times burning. For what comparison is there betwixt an hundred hours burning with some space of time betwixt every hour, and to burn an hundred years of continual torment? And what comparison will there be betwixt burning for an hundred years' space, and to be burning without interruption as long as God is God? Let a Christian, who hath ever committed a mortal sin, consider this, and let him see what can be difficult, sharp, and intolerable, since thereby he deserved to be cast into Hell: and let him see, whether he think any tribulation and affliction would be too great to give satisfaction. Well may he say, I deserved to suffer greater torments, and therefore will not complain of this my light suffering. 
Beda de Gest. Anglorum. l. 5.  Venerable Bede doth also write of one, to whom the pains and torments, as also the joys and bliss of the other life were shown: and having obtained leave to return to this world again, he renounced all he had in this life, and betook himself unto a Monastery, where he persevered in a most rigid manner of life to his dying day: in so much that his manner of living gave perpetual testimony, that, although he was silent, yet he had seen horrible things, and that he had hopes to obtain other great ones, which did indeed deserve to be thirsted after. He entered into a frozen River, which was near the Convent without putting off his , having first broke the ice in several places, that he might be able to get into the water; and afterwards let his  to dry upon his back. Some admired, that a man's body was able to suffer so great cold in the Winter time; And to those, who demanded, How he could possibly endure it: He replied, I have seen colds far greater. And when they said unto him: How can you so constantly keep such a rigorous and austere manner of life? He replied, I have seen far greater austerity. Neither did he relent in the rigour of his penance even in his decrepit age: but was very careful to chastise his flesh with continual fasts; and his exemplar conversation and wholesome admonitions were such, as he did much good to many, and efficaciously stirred them up to the amendment of their lives.  
We must make use of this selfsame consideration to encourage ourselves to suffer in this life all that can be suffered, in regard that in the other we should suffer more than can be suffered. Hell certainly is more unsufferable than fasting with bread and water: fare more than a rough haircloth, or a discipline though never so bloody: far more than the greatest injuries or disgraces, that can be put upon us. Let us then suffer that which is lesser to be freed from that which is greater; especially being so much greater, by how much a living creature exceeds a painted one. Let us not complain of any thing that may happen unto us in this life: But let us rather be comforted, that we, who have deserved to be in those eternal flames without profit or hope of reward, may by our patiented suffering here some temporal afflictions expect an everlasting reward for them in Heaven. The Mother of St. Catharine of Sienna carried her to certain Baths to divert and recreate her, because she was very weak, 
Hist. S. Dom. 2. p. lib. 2.  and disfigured with leanness. But the Saint could find in this entertainment a sharp cross, which was, that entering into the Bath alone, she went to the Bathhead, where the water came out in a manner boiling hot, and there suffered herself to be scalded to that degree, that it seemed impossible for a weak Damsel to have been able to endure it. Her Confessarius asked her afterwards, How she had so much courage to abide such heat, and for so long a space? She replied, That when she placed herself there, she also placed her consideration in the pains of Purgatory and Hell-fire, and withal begged of God Almighty, whom she had offended, that he would be pleased to change the punishments she had deserved by her sins into temporal pains and sufferings: whereby all the pains of this life seemed very easy unto her to suffer, and the great heat of the scalding water of the Bath seemed a refreshment to her in respect of the fiery Furnace of Hell, in which the damned are for ever and ever to be tormented.  
And in regard holy Scripture calls Hell a Pool or Lake of fire, 
Pet. Damian. l. 2. ep. 15. ad Desid. c. 4.  I will here rehearse a story out of St. Petrus Demianus, which will give us to understand the terribleness of this torment. In Lombardy (saith he) there was a man cunning and crafty, of a notable talking tongue, and a friend of breaking jests on all occasions: and commonly by reason of his quick wit he came off with credit; And if at any time it happened to him otherways, he knew how to put it off very handsomely. In fine he was one of those that knew very well how to live in the world. But what end had all his tricks and slights? he died; for against this stroke he had no defence. His body was buried in the Church, and his soul in the place, which God grant no body may ever come in. An holy Religious man being in prayer he saw in spirit a great Lake, not of water, but of fire, which boiled like a Pot, and cast flames now and then up into the heavens, which sent forth sparks in so great quantity, and with such fearful noise, that it caused great horror to hear and see it. What would it be to suffer it? The miserable foul of this man we speak of did suffer it in all extremity. Moreover he saw that the Lake was encompassed round about with fearful Serpents and terrible Dragons, which had their mouths open towards the Lake, with many rows of sharp teeth to guard the Lake. In this confusion of fire and cruel beasts the Soul of the miserable Babbler was howling and crying, and swimming upon the flames endeavoured to get to the bank, and drawing nigh, the comfort he found was, that a Serpent stretching out a long neck and a wide mouth was ready to tear him in pieces and swallow him; He endeavoured to turn another way in the Lake, and drawing near the side he lighted upon a Dragon, the only sight whereof made him make more haste back again, than he had done to come thither. He swum in the Lake burning alive: and wherever he came, he found the like encounter; but which is worse, he shall remain there whilst God is God, without any remedy at all. And with much reason, saith St. Peter Damianus, he suffered this punishment of not being able to get out of that Lake of fire, in regard he in this life got so cunningly out of any adversity by his many shifts. In this manner God Almighty gave to understand by this revelation the extremity of this torment. But it is to be noted, that it is fare greater than is here expressed; because this was not so much to tell us what hell is, as to declare by some similitude or representation, which may remain fixed in our senses, that, which indeed exceeds all similitude or resemblance.   

§ 3.  
The pains of the Powers of a damned Soul.  
THe Imagination shall no less afflict those miserable offenders, increasing the pains of the Senses by the liveliness of its apprehension. For if in this life the imagination is sometimes so vehement, that it hurts more than real evils, in the other the torment, which it causes, will be excessive. 
Vide Marcel. Don. in Hist. M●dica l. 2. c. 1.  Alexander Tralianus writes of a Woman who was extremely ill, only with a false imagination that she had swallowed a Snake, and was persuaded that she already felt most grievous pains by the Snakes gnawing of her entrails. What will the apprehension of the truth do in those miserable wretchches, when the worm of their conscience will be continually gnawing their very hearts? Assahara●ius writes of others who complained of the great pains they endured by whipping, when no man touched a thread of their Garment. Much more is that which Fulgosius recounts as an eye-witnese, that being Judge in a Duel, one of the Competitors made the other fly, 
Baptist. Fulgos. l. 9  but instantly fell down dead himself without any other cause than an imagination that he was hurt to death; for he neither received wound nor blow, neither was the sign of any found upon his dead body. If in this life the imagination be so powerful in men, who are in health, and have other diversions, as to cause a sense of pain, where none hurts, grief, where none molests, and death, where none kills, What shall it be in Hell, where there is nothing of delight to divert it, where so many Devils punish and afflict with torments, preserving only life that the pain of death may live eternally? And if we see some timorous people with an imaginary fear tremble and remain half dead, there is no doubt but the imagination of those miserable persons joined with the horror of the place, where they are, will cause a thousand pains and torments.  
The powers of the Soul shall be those which shall suffer the greatest lashes. The Will shall be tormented with an eternal abhorring and rage against itself, against, all creatures, and against God the Creator of all: and shall with an intolerable sadness, anger, grief and disorder of all the affections violently desire things impossible, and despair of all what is good. And if joy consists in the possessing of what one loves, and pain in the want of that which is desired, and being necessitated to what is abhorred, What greater pain and torment than to be ever desiring that which shall never be enjoyed, and ever abhorring that which we can, never be quit of? 
Bern. l. 5. de Consid. ad Eugen. Papam.  Wherefore St. Bernard says, What thing more painful, then ever to will that which shall never be, and ever to will that which shall not cease to be? That which he desires, he shall never obtain: and what he desires not, eternally suffer. And from hence shall spring that raging fury, which David speaks of: The sinner shall see and he raging, he shall gnash his teeth and be consumed.  
This rage and madness shall be augmented by the despair, which shall be joined unto it. For as no man sins without injury to the Divine mercy, presuming to sin in, hope he may repent and be pardoned: So it was fit that the Divine justice should chastise the sinner with a despair of all remedy, that so he, who abused the Divine benefits with a false hope, might feel the punishment of a true despair. This torment shall be most terrible unto the damned. For as the greatest evil is eased by hope, so the least is made grievous by despair. Hope in afflictions is supported by two things; One is the fruit, which may result from suffering; The other is the end and conclusion of the evil suffered. But in regard the despair of the damned is of so great evils, the despair itself will be a most terrible one. If one suffers and reaps fruit from it, 'tis a comfort unto him, and the grief is recompensed by the joy of the benefit thereof; but when the suffering is without fruit or profit, than it comes to be heavy indeed. The hope of a good harvest makes the labourer with cheerfulness endure the toil of ploughing and sowing; but if he were certain to reap no profit, every pace he moved would be grievous and irksome unto him. A Day-labourer with the hope of his wages goes through the toil of the day with great comfort: But if they commanded him to work for nothing, he would have no heart to work at all. The holy Martyrs and Confessors of Christ, what penances, what rigours, what martyrdoms have they willingly undergone, expecting the fruit they were to draw from their patience? And though in temporal afflictions this hope of recompense should fail, yet the hope, that they would sometime cease and have an end, would afford some comfort and ease unto the sufferers. But in Hell both those are wanting; The damned shall neither receive reward for their sufferings, nor shall their torments ever have an end. Of them it is that St. John speaks; They shall seek death, and shall not find it; 
Apoc. 9  They shall desire to die, and death shall fly from them. O let a Christian consider how great a recompense attends the least of our sufferings here in Christ's service, and how vain and unprofitable shall all our sufferings be hereafter. One penitent knock upon the breast here may gain eternal glory; There the most intense pains and torments both in soul and body cannot deserve a drop of cold water, nor so much ease, as to turn from one side to the other. In this raging despair ends the temerarious hopes of sinners. Hell is full of those, who hoped they should never enter into it: and full of those, who despair of getting out of it. They offended with a presumptuous hope they should not die in sin: and that proving false, are fallen into eternal desperation. There is no hope can excuse the falling into so great a danger. Let us therefore secure Heaven, and not sin.  
The Memory shall be another cruel Tormentor of those miserable sinners, converting all they have done good or bad into torments: The good, because they have lost their reward, The bad, because they have deserved their punishments. The delights also, which they have enjoyed, and all the happiness of this life, in which they have triumphed, (seeing that for them they fell into this misery,) shall be a sharp sword, which shall pierce their hearts. They shall burst with grief, when they shall compare the shortness of their past pleasures with the eternity of their present torments. What Mathematician so learned, as can perfectly set out the excess of those eternal years of the other life unto those short few and evil days of this? What groans, what sighs will they pour out, when they see that those delights have hardly lasted an instant, and that the pains they suffer for them shall last for ages and eternities, all that is past appearing but as a dream? Let us tremble now at the felicity of this life, if it make such wounds in the hearts of those, who have used it ill. Let us tremble at all our pleasures, since they may turn into Arseneck and Hemlock. The miserable wretch shall with great grief remember how often he might have gained Heaven, and did it not, but is now tumbled into Hell, and shall say unto himself, How many times might I have prayed, and spent that time in play? but now I pay for it. How many times ought I to have fasted, and left it to satisfy my greedy appetite? How many times might I have given alms, and spent it in sin? How many times might I have pardoned my enemies, and chose rather to be revenged? How many times might I have frequented the Sacraments, and forbore them, because I would not quit the occasion of sinning? There never wantted means of serving God: but I never made use of it, and am therefore now justly paid for all. Behold accursed Caitiff, that entertaining thyself in pleasures, thou hast for toys and fooleries lost Heaven. If thou wouldst, thou mightest have been a companion for Angels; if thou wouldst thou mightest have been in eternal joy: and thou hast lost all for the pleasure of a moment. O accursed and wretched fool, thy Redeemer courted thee with Heaven, and thou despisedst him for a base trifle. This was thy fault, and now thou sufferest for it; and since thou wouldst not be happy with God, thou shalt now be eternally cursed by him and his Angels.  
The Understanding shall torment itself with discourses of great bitterness, discoursing of nothing but what may grieve it. Aristotle shall not there take delight in his wisdom, nor Seneca comfort himself with his Philosophy. Galen shall find no remedy in his Physic, nor the profoundest Scholar in his Divinity. A certain Doctor of Paris appeared after death unto the Bishop of that City, and gave him an account that he was damned. The Bishop demanded of him, if he had there any knowledge. He answered, That he knew nothing but only three things; The first, that he was eternally damned: The second, that the Sentence passed against him was irrevocable: The third, that for the vain pleasure of the world he was deprived of the vision of God. And then he desired to know of the Bishop if there were any people in the world remaining. The Bishop ask him the reason of that question, he answered, that within these few last days there have so many souls descended into Hell, that methinks there should not any be left upon earth.  
In this power of the Soul is engendered though worm of conscience, which is so often proposed unto us in holy Scripture as a most terrible torment, and greater than that of fire. Only in one Sermon, or rather in the Epilogue of that Sermon Christ our Redeemer three times menaces us with that Worm, 
Marc. 9  which gnaws the consciences and tears in pieces the hearts of the Damned, admonishing us as often, That their worm shall never die, nor their sire be quenched. For as the worm, which breeds in dead flesh, or that which breeds in wood, eats and gnaws that substance of which they are engendered; so the Worm, which is bred from sin, is in perpetual enmity with it, gnawing and devouring the heart of the sinner with raging, desperate, and now unprofitable grief: still putting him in mind, that by his own fault he lost that eternal glory, which he might so easily have obtained, and is now fallen into eternal torments, from whence there is no redemption. And certainly this resentment of the loss of Heaven shall more torment him, than the fire of Hell. Of an evil conscience even in this life St. Austin said, 
Aug. in Psal. 45. Quint. Declam. 12. Senec. ep. 97.  that amongst all the tribulations of the Soul none was greater than that of a guilty conscience. Even the Gentiles knew this, and therefore Quintilian exclaims, O sad remembrance and knowledge more grievous than all torments! And Seneca says, that evil actions are whipped by the conscience of themselves: that perpetual vexation and resentment brings great afflictions and torments upon the Actors: that wickedness drinks up the greatest part of its own poison, and is a punishment unto itself.  
Certainly it were a great rigour, if a Father should be forced to be present at the execution of his Son: but more, if he should be compelled to be the Hangman; and yet greater, if the Gallows should be placed before his own door, so that he could neither go in or out without beholding that affront and contumely; but far greater cruelty, if they should make the guilty person to execute himself, and that by cutting his body in pieces, member after member, or tearing off his flesh with his own teeth. This is the cruelty and torment of an evil Conscience, with which a sinner is racked and tortured amongst those eternal flames, not being able to banish his faults from his memory, nor their punishment from his thoughts. The envy also, which they shall bear towards those, who have gained Heaven by as small matters as they have lost it, shall much add to their grief. Those who are hungry, if they see others meaner than they feed at some splendid and plentiful Table, and cannot be admitted themselves, become more hungry; so shall it far with the damned, who shall be more afflicted by beholding others, sometimes less than themselves, enjoy that eternal happiness, which they through want of care are deprived of. Esau, though a Clown, having understood, that his Brother Jacob had obtained▪ his Father's Benediction, cried out and roared like a Lion, and consumed himself with resentment and horror. What lamentations shall those of the damned be, when they shall see that the Just have gained the Benediction of God, not by any deceit or cozenage used by them, but that they lost it through their own neglect? Those who with opinion of merit earnestly aim at some vacant Dignity, if at length they see themselves neglected, and with shame put off, their grief and indignation swells above measure: In like manner, I say, shall it be with those damned wretches, who will be far more afflicted by the consideration of those great goods and eternal felicities, which they see themselves have lost, and those to enjoy them, whom they deemed far inferior to them in merit. Let us now therefore have remorse of conscience whilst we may kill the Worm, lest it then by't us, when it cannot die.    

CAP. XI.  
Of Eternal Death, and the Punishment of Talion in the Damned.  
AFter all this there shall not want in Hell the pains of Death, which amongst humane punishments is the greatest. That of Hell is a living Death, and doth as far exceed this of earth, as the substance doth a shadow. The Death, which men give, together with death takes away the pain and sense of dying; but the Eternal Death of sinners is with sense and by so much greater, as it hath more of life, recollecting within itself the worst of dying, which is to perish, and the most intolerable, of life, which is to suffer pain. And therefore St. Bernard calls the pain of the damned a living Death, and a dead Life; and Pope Innocent the Third an immortal Death. O Death, how much less cruel art thou in taking away life, than in forcing to live in so painful a manner? 
Greg. Moral. l. 9 c. 49.  St. Gregory also says: In hell there shall be unto the miserable a death without death, and an end without end; for their death shall ever live, and their end shall ever begin. Mortal sin is the greatest of all evils, and consequently deserves the greatest of all punishments. Because in ordinary death, which takes away the use of the senses, the rigour of it is not felt, God ordained another kind of death, in which the senses perpetually dying should perpetually feel the force of pain, and should ever live in the agony of dying. This David signitied, when he said, That death should feed on the damned; for as the Flock pastures upon the grass, but ends it not, because it still grows green and fresh again: so that death feeds upon sinners, but consumes them not.  
This death of the damned the holy Scripture calls the second death, Because it succeeds the first, and comprehends both that of soul and body. And with much reason may it also be called a double death: because death is then doubled when we die, and feel the torment of dying: which in the first death of the body we do not. Even here amongst us, if there should be a condition, in which we might be sensible but of some part of that which death brings along with it, it would be esteemed a greater evil than death itself. Who doubts but if one after burial should find himself alive and sensible under the earth, where he could speak with no body, see nothing but darkness, hear nothing but those who walked above him, smell nothing but the rotten stink of their bodies, cat nothing but his own flesh, nor feel any thing but the earth which oppressed him, or the cold pavement of the Vault where he lay: Who doubts not, I say, but that this estate were worse than to be wholly dead, since life only served to feel the pain of death? For this reason the ingenious Romans, when they would punish Sacrilege, which is the greatest crime, made use of interring the offenders alive, as of the greatest punishment: and therefore executed it upon their Vestal Virgins, when they offended a 'gainst their chastity, as upon Oppia and Minutia, that being alive they might feel the pain and bitterness of dying. And certainly Zeno the Emperor found this punishment so bitter, that he devoured his own flesh by morsels. What Sepulchre is more horrible than that of Hell, what is eternally shut upon those who are in it, whore the miserable damned remain not only under earth, but under fire, having sense for nothing but to feel death, darkness, loathsomeness, pain and stink? This is therefore a double death, because to feel the pain of death is an evil double to that of dying. 
Lib. 6. de Civit. ca 12.  Wherefore St. Austin said, No death is greater or worse than where death dies not.  
Besides, this death of Hell may be called a double death, in respect it contains both the death of sin, ang the death of pain: those unfortunate wretches standind condemned never to be freed from the death of sin, and for ever to be tormented with the death of pain. There is no greater death than that of the Soul, which is sin, in which the miserable are to continue whilst God is God with that infinite evil, and that ugly deformity, which sin draws along with it, which is worse than to suffer that eternal fire, which is but the punishment of it. After sin, what pain should there be greater than that of sin itself? and for this reason in Hell, in regard 'tis the torment for sin, it is a greater pain than death itself, or the most horrible death of all. Who trembles not with the only memory that he is to die, remembering that he is to cease to be, that the feet, whereon he walks are no more to bear him, that his hands are no more to serve him, nor his eyes to see? Why then do we not rather tremble at the thought of Hell, in respect of which the first death is no punishment, but a reward, a happiness, and a joy, there being no damned in Hell, but would take that death, which we here inflict for offences, as an ease of his pains? O how much does the Divine Justice exceed the humane, since that, which men give unto those whom they condemn for the greatest offences, would be received by those, whom God condemns, as a great ease, comfort, and accomplishment of their desires, who shall desire death, and death shall fly from them? for unto all their evils and miseries this as the greatest is adjoined, that neither They nor It shall shall ever die. This circumstance of being eternal doth much augment the torments of Hell, such being the condition of eternity, (as hath been already declared,) that it doth infinitely augment that, whereunto it is annexed. Let us suppose that one had but a Gnat, that should sting his right hand, and a Wasp at the left, and that one foot should be pricked with a Thorn, and the other with a Pin. If this only were to last for ever, it would be an intolerable torment. What will it then be, when hands, feet, arms, head, bread, and entrails are to burn for all eternity? The only holding one finger in a Candle for the space of a quarter of an hour no body would be able to suffer it. To be then plunged into the infernal flames for years eternal, what understanding is there that is able, I do not say, to express in words, but to frame a due conception of this torment? That a torment is never to cease, and that the tormented is to live for ever, the only thinking of it causes great horror; What would it be to suffer it? 
Sur. To. 7. die 14. April.  A certain man who had not much repentance or feeling, it seems, of his sins, having expressed divers most heinous offences to the holy Virgin St. Lidwine, the Saint replied, That she would do penance for them, contenting herself, that he should only lie in his Bed one night in the same posture looking up towards Heaven without moving or turning himself all night. The man very contented and joyful, If my penance, says he, be no greater than this, I shall soon have performed it. But he was scarce laid down in his Bed, when he had a mind to turn on one side, it being a great trouble to him not to do it, persuading himself, that he never lay so uneasy his whole life before: and said unto himself; My Bed is a very good one, and soft, I am well in health, what is wanting to me? nothing else is wanting, but only to turn me from one side to the other. But this what is it? be quiet, and sleep as thou art till morning. Canst thou not? then tell me, what doth ail thee? By this means he called to mind eternity, discoursing thus with himself: How comes this to pass that thou canst not read one single night, it being such a torture to be still without turning thyself? What would it be, if thou wert to remain in one posture three or four nights? Certainly it would be a death unto me. Truly I should never have believed one could suffer so much in a thing so easy. Woe is me. How little patience have I, since a thing so small and trivial grieves me so much! What would it have been, if the had commanded me to lie watching many weeks? What would it be, if I had the Colic, or were tormented with the Stone, or Sciatica? Far greater evils than these are prepared for thee in Hell, whither thou posts by running into so many sins. Consider what a Couch Is prepared for thee, in that abyss of misery, what Featherbed, what Holland Sheets. Thou shalt be cast upon burning coals, stames and fulphur shall be thy Coverlets. Mark well whether this Bed be for one night only Yea nights, days, months and years, ages and eternities thou art to remain on that side, thou fallest on, without having the least relief to turn thyself unto the other. That fire shall never die, neither shalt thou ever die, to the end its torments may last eternally. After an hundred years, and after an hundred thousand millions of years they shall be as lively and as vigorous, as at the first day. See what thou dost by not fearing eternal death, by making no account of eternity, by setting so much of thy affection on a temporal life. Thou dost not walk the right way; change thy life, and begin to serve thy Creator. So did this man, being convinced by this discourse. He amended his life. And let him do the like, who comes to read this. Let him know, that if they should tell him, that he were not to stir out of a Bed of roses for twenty years' space, he would not be able to suffer it. How will he be able to lie upon a Bed of hot burning coals in flames of sulphur for all eternity?  

§ 2.  
Unto all those pains shall be joined that of Talion, which is, To pay with proportion so much for so much, which also shall not be wanting in Hell. And therefore it is said in the Ayocalyps, By how much she glorified herself, and lived in delights, Give her so much of torment. There shall the delicious person be afflicted, he, who contemned others, be despised, and the proud trampled under foot: it being most convenient for the Divine Justice, that the damned in hell should be punished in the same manner, wherein they have here offended; as may appear by this example rehearsed by Henry Gran. A young Damsel, 
Henric. Gran. d. 9 c. 200.  as to outward appearance, given to Prayer, Fast, Watch and Penance, and for this reason esteemed by all for a Saint, She fell dangerously sick, and having made her confession died. Within a short time after she appeared to her Confessarius in a black and fearful shape. The priest not knowing her, demanded Who she was. I am, quoth she, that one, that was held by all for a Saint. I am none, but a most miserable wretch, since I am condemned to hell fire, where I shall never cease to be tormented in company of the most abject and contemptible Fiends, and that for the content and satisfaction I took in myself, and for the pride I had, esteeming myself far above others, having a base and vile conceit of all. For this vice I shall live in eternal torments. Though God should dry up the Sea, and fill up the empty places thereof with the smallest sand that can be imagined, and should permit that a little Bird should but take one grain every hundred years, God's wrath and Justice would not be satisfied with the torments my Soul shall suffer until such time as the said little Bird should take out every grain of the foresaid sand. For were this granted, I would most willingly suffer all the time required for the performance thereof all the pains and torments of all the damned Souls in Hell, with this only proviso, that at last my Soul might come to obtain salvation. But there is no remedy now; And therefore, Father, do not put yourself to the trouble to pray tor me, being nothing can avail me.  
In this History we have seen Pride chastised by humiliation. In tills that follows we shall see Pleasures and delightful entertainments chastised with proportionable torments. 
Cantip. l. 2. c. 49. p. 2. Joan. Major. v. Infernus. Exemp. 6.  Cantipratensis writes, That in the parts of Teutonia there was a Soldier very valiant, and much given to Tilting and Running at the Ring. And according as he lived, so he died miserably. His Wife, who was a devout person, and of exemplar life, after the death of her Husband had in an Ecstasy manifested unto her the miserable state of her Husbands Soul. It was represented unto her, as if it were still united to the Body, encompassed with a multitude of Devils; Whereof the Principal in her hearing gave command, they should furnish their new Guest with a pair of Shoes fit for his feet, which piercing them might reach to his very head. Then he commanded they should put him on a Coat of Male made full of sharp points, which might pierce his whole body in all parts. After this a third command was, that they should put him on a Helmet with a sharp nail that might pierce his head, and come to be clenched below his feet. Finally by his command they hung a Target about his neck so heavy, that it might crush all the bones in his body. All this being punctually and speedily performed, the Prince of darkness told his Officers: This worthy person, altar he had entertained himself in Tilting and the like menages of valour, was accustomed to refresh his toiled limbs with sweet Baths, and then to retire to some soft Bed, sporting himself afterwards with other comfortable dalliances of sensuality. Give him now somewhat of those refreshments which are usual here. They presently hurled him into a fire prepared: then to ease him, they placed him in a Bed red hot, where a Toad waited for him of an immense size, with eyes most dreadful, which clipped the Soldier very close, kissing and embracing him in such a rueful manner, that it was the most dreadful of all the torments he had suffered, and brought him even to pangs of death. That good woman, who by God's appointment had seen what passed in her Husband, had this vision so fresh in memory all the days of her life, and with such continual oppressions of heart, that none, who had known her before, beholding her afterwards, could otherwise imagine, but that she suffered some great and extraordinary affliction.  
Many other pains and torments proportionable to the crimes committed may be seen in the works of Wermero. A Gentleman of noble Parentage, 
Wermer. Mon. Carthu. in fasciculo morum.  an English man by birth, by divine inspiration became a Cistercian Monk. He entered upon this course of life, and continued with such great courage, that he stuck not to challenge the Devil, and bid him defiance. The Enemy made his Cell the field of battle. Here he assaulted him first with whips: then upon a certain occasion gave him such blows, that the blood burst out at his mouth and nose. At the noise the Monks came in, and finding him half dead, they carried him to his Bed, where he lay for the space of three days without giving any signs of life. In which time in the company of an Angel he descended into a very obscure place, where he saw a Man seated in a Chair of fire, and certain Women very beautiful thrusting into his mouth burning torches, drawing them out at other parts of his body, which had been the instruments of his sins. The Monk being astonished at this spectacle, the Angel told him: This miserable wretch was a very powerful man in the world, and much given to Women, and for this reason the Devils in shape of Women do torment him as thou seest. Pasing a little farther he beheld another, whom the infernal spirits were flaying alive, and having rubbed all his body over with salt, they put him to roast upon a Gridiron. This man, said the Angel, was a great Lord, so cruel to his Vassals, as the Devils are now to him. A little farther they met with other persons of divers states and conditions, which were tormented with several kinds of torments: Many Religious both men and women, whose lives had been contrary to their profession: Talkers, Censurers of other men's lives, Slaves to their bellies, defiled with lust, and other such like vices. To these the Ministers of vengeance, in shape of most ugly fellows, gave many blows, in such sort, that they dashed out their brains, and made their eyes fly out of their heads, because in their works they were blind, and without judgement: a chastisement, 
Prov. 19  which the Wiseman appoints for such like persons. Afterwards he lifted up his eyes, and beheld one fastened to a horrible Wheel, turning in such a dreadful manner, that the Monk here was almost besides himself. That, thou seest, is terrible, said the Angel; but far more terrible will be what thou shalt now see. At the instant the Wheel began to run from aloft down to the most profound depths, with such horrid joggs, and with such noise, as if all the World, Earth, Heaven, and all were breaking in pieces. At this so sudden and direful accident all the Prisoners and Gaolers of Hell broke out into great cries, cursing and damning him, that came in the Wheel. This man, said the Angel, is Judas the Apostle, who betrayed his Master: and as long as he shall reign in glory, which shall be world without end, so long shall this miserable wretch lie thus tormented. With these Representations God hath given us to understand the proportion his Justice observes in his chastisements, to make us form some lively apprehension of the greatness of those pains: they being indeed far greater than what ever we can conceive by all the rigour imaginable exhibited to the senses. And in regard what enters by the senses prevails more with us, for this reason he represents unto us the torments of the soul suitably to those so horrible to our senses, as is to dash out the brains, and make the brains fly out of the head. For though it be true that this effect is not wrought indeed, yet the torments inflicted upon the damned Souls are without companion greater, than it would be for a man in this life to be so beaten about the head, till his brains and eyes flew out. Let us therefore fear the Divine justice: and let us understand, that in those parts of the body we offend God Almighty with greater delight, we shall be sure to be punished with greater torment.  
And here may be given this further instruction, that as these and many such like stories, related for more variety of discourse in this Treatise, oblige us not to a full and absolute belief of them: so they desire the favour of so much credit at least, as is allowed to Livy, Justine, or other Chronicle-writers; especially the Recorders of these being such, as are no less grave and wise, and acknowledge moreover a greater obligation of conscience not to wrong the World with lies, or empty relations taken up upon the account of frivolous reports, especially in matters of such concernment, And as we think it not amiss to make use, as occasion serves, of profane Examples and Authorities in confirmation of what we usually either speak or write, so without all doubt the same use of Sacred and Ecclesiastical occurrences may be no less available in such matters as these.    

CAP. XII.  
The fruit which may be drawn front the consideration of Eternal Evils.  
ALl which hath been said of the pains in Hell, is far short of that which really they are. There is great difference betwixt the knowledge we have by relation, and that which we learn by experience. The Maccabees knew that the Temple of the Lord was already profaned, deserted, and destroyed. They had heard of it, and lamented it; but when they saw with their eyes the Sanctuary lie desolate, the Altar profaned, and the Gates burnt, there was then no measure in their tears. They tore their garments, cast ashes upon their heads, threw themselves upon the ground, and their complaints ascended as high as Heaven. If then the relation and discourse of the pains of Hell makes us tremble, what shall be the sight and experience. This notwithstanding the consideration of what hath been said may help us to form some conception of the terror and horror of that place of eternal sorrow. Let us, as St. Bernard says, descend into Hell whilst we live, that we may not descend thither when we are dead. Let us draw some fruit from thence during our lives, from whence nothing but torment is to be had after death. The principal fruits, which may be drawn from that consideration, are these. In the first place, an ardent love and sincere gratitude towards our Creator; that having so often deserved Hell, he hath not yet suffered us to fall into it. How many be there now in Hell, who for their first mortal sin, and only for that one have been sent thither? and we, notwithstanding the innumerable sins, which we have committed, are yet spared. What did God find in us, that he should use a mercy towards us for so many sins, which he did not afford to others for so few? Why are we not then more grateful for so many benefits, which we have no ways deserved? How grateful would a damned person be, if God should free him from those flames, wherein he is tormented, and place him in the same condition we now are? What a life would he lead? what penance would he undergo? what austerity would not appear a pleasure unto him? and how grateful would he be unto so merciful a benefactor? He hath done no less for us, but much more. For, if he hath not drawn us out of Hell, he hath not thrown us into it as we deserved, which is the greater favour. Tell me if a Creditor should cast that Debtor into prison, who owed him a thousand. Ducats, and after the enduring of much affliction at last release him: or should suffer another, who owed him fifty thousand Ducats to go up and down free without touching a thread of his garment: Whether of the Debtors received the greater benefit? I believe thou wilt say the latter. More than are we indebted unto God Almighty, and therefore aught to serve him better. Consider how a man would live, who should be restored to life after he had been in Hell. Thou shouldst live better, since thou art more indebted to Almighty God. 
Lib. 4. Dialog. cap. 36.  St. Gregory writes of one, who though he had not been released out of Hell, but only was upon the point of damnation, yet led afterwards such a life, that the change was admirable. (The Saint says, that a Monk called Peter, who, before he retired to the desert, was in a trance for some time as dead: and being restored to his senses made this relation; That he had had a sight of Hell, and that he had seen in it great chastisements, and innumerable places full of fire; and that he knew some, who had been very powerful in the World, hanging in the midst of the flames; and himself being now at the brink to be cast into the same, he saw on the sudden a bright shining Angel, who withheld him, saying; Return to thy body, and consider well, with what care and diligence it suits with thy profession to lead thy life from hence forwards. So it was, that being returned to his body, he treated it with such austerity of penance, watches and fasts, that although he should not have spoken a word, his manner of life did publish sufficiently what he had seen.)  
Secondly we are taught to exercise an invincible patience in suffering the afflictions and troubles of this life, that by enduring these thankfully we may escape those of the other. He who shall consider the eternity of those torments which he deserves, will not grumble at the pains of this short life how bitter soever. There is no state or condition upon earth, how necesitous, how poor, how miserable soever, which the damned would not endure, and think it an infinite happiness, if they might change with it. Neither is there any course of life so austere, which he who had once experienced those burning flames, if he might live again, would not make more rigorous. He who hath once deserved eternal torments let him never murmur at temporal evils; let his mouth be ever stopped from complaining of the crosses, or petty injuries offered him in this life, who hath committed offences worthy the pains of the other. From this consideration there was nothing which the Saints would not willingly suffer, no penance which they would not undergo. 
Apoc. 14.  Wherefore St. John the Evangelist, after he had spoken of the smoke, which ascended from the torments of the damned for a world of worlds, and and that they did not rest by day nor night, presently adds, Here is the patience of the Saints; because seeing that all the troubles of this life were temporal, and the torments of the other eternal, nothing that they endured seemed much unto them. 
Chrysost. To. 5. Epist. 5. ad Theod.  So did St. John Chrsostome, and advises us to do the like, bearing with patience all temporal pains whatsoever with the consideration of the eternal. From the consideration of little thing (saith he) let us frame a conjecture of the great. If thou go into a Bath, and shalt find it excessive hot, think on Hell; If thou art tormented with the heat, think on Hell; If thou art tormented with the heat of some violent Fever, pass unto the consideration of those eternal flames, which burn without end: and think that if a Bath or Calenture so afflict thee, how shalt thou endure that River of fire. 
Homil. 2. in 1. Ep. ad Thess.  And further the same Saint. When thou shalt see any thing great in this present life, think presently of the Kingdom of Heaven, and so thou shalt not value it much; and when thou shalt see any thing terrible, think on Hell, and thou wilt laugh at it. When the concupiscence or desire of any temporal thing shall afflict thee, think that the delight of sin is of no estimation, and that the pleasure of it is nothing. For if the fear of Laws, which are enacted upon earth, be of that force, that they are able to deter us from evil actions, much more will the thought of things to come, and that immortal chastisement of eternal pain. If the fear of an Earthly King divert us from many evils, how much more shall the fear of a King eternal? If the fight of a dead man detain us, much more shall the thought of hell and that eternal death. If we often think of hell, we shall never fall into it.  
We ought also often to call to mind the evils of the next life, that we may more despise the pleasures of this: because temporal felicity uses often to end in eternal misery. All that is precious in the world, honour, wealth, fame, pleasure, all the splendour of the Earth is but smoke and a shadow, if we compare the small duration of them with the eternity of those torments in the other world. Put all the Silver in the world together in one heap, all the Gold, all the Precious-stones, Diamonds, Emeralds with all other the richest Jewels, all the Triumphs of the Romans, all the Dainties of the Assytians, etc. all would deserve to be of no other value than dirt, ignominy, and gall, if to be possessed with hazard of falling at last into the pit of Hell. Let us call to mind that sentence of our blessed Saviour: What will it avail a man, to gain the whole world, if he lose his soul? If they should make us Lords and Masters, I say not of great wealth, but of the whole world, we should not admit of it with the least hazard of being damned for ever. Let one enjoy all the contents and regaloes imaginable, let him be raised up to the highest pitch of honour, let him triumph with all the greatness of the world, All this is but a dream, if after this mortal life he finds himself at length plunged into hellfire. Whosoever should consider the lamentable day, in which two Sons, and three Daughters, and his Wife the Empress were put to death in presence of the Emperor Mauritius, and afterwards himself was bereft of life by command of a dastardly Coward and vicious fellow, no doubt but he would esteem as very vain and of no worth all the twenty years of his Reign in his powerful Empire and Majesty, though his punishment was not to last for ever, in regard he had the good fortune to save his Soul. Wherefore if one only disastrous day, after the enjoying of so much felicity and greatness of the world for twenty years' space, is sufficient to cause a contempt of all that pomp, and make the same appear as smoke, not only one year of affliction, not a thousand ages, but eternity in torments how will it, make all humane prosperity to seem nothing else but a shadow and a dream? If the sad death of one, though he saves his soul, shows the vanity of all humane felicities, The lamentable death of one, who is damned to Hell, and an eternity of unspeakable misery how will it make evident, that all felicity and humane greatness is nothing but smoke, a shadow, and nothing? Let us reflect a thought upon the Emperor Heliogabolus, who gave so great a scope to all his sensual appetites, and was most exactly industrious in making use of time to the advantage of his pleasures, What account are we to make of his two years and eight month's reign, if we give credit to Aurelius and Eutropius, turning our consideration to the other Scene of his miserable death. For the Praetorian Soldiers having drawn him out of a Sink or Privy, where he had hid himself, then haling him upon the ground, they threw him into an other Sink most filthy and abominable; but in regard there was not room enough for his whole body, they pulled him out again, and dragging him through the great place called Circus, and other public Streets of Rome, at last they cast him into the Tiber, having first tied great stones about him, to the end he might never appear more, nor obtain interrement. All this was done to the great content of the people, and approbation of the Senate. Who should see this nice and effeminate Prince wallowing in the Sink, abused by his Soldiers, and drowned in the Tiber, what estimate would he frame of all his greatnese? But see him now in the horrid Sink of Hell, abused by the Devils, and plunged into that pit of fire and brimstone, where he is to suffer excessive torments for all eternity; what will that short time of his Empire seem, being compared, I do not say with three hundred thousand millions of years, but with an eternity of pains, which he is to suffer, causing all the past glory of his Empire, and splendour of his fortunes to vanish into smoke? You may look upon a Wheel of Squibs or Fireworks, which whilst it moves, casts forth a thousand lights and splendours, with which the beholders are much taken: but all at last ends in a little smoke and  paper. So it is. Whilst the Wheel of felicities was in motion, according to the stile of St. James, that is to say, whilst our life lasts, its fortune and prosperity appeared most glorious; but ceasing, all comes to end in smoke: and he, that fares best in it, becomes a firebrand of Hell. Rabanus said well, that when a strong fever. 
Raban in Eccl.  or some great unexpected change in his estate happens to one, it makes him forget all his former contents in health, and wealth: his sickness and adversity taking up so the whole man, as that he has no leisure to employ his thoughts upon any thing else; and if perhaps any passage of his former condition chance to come to his mind, it gives him no satisfaction, but rather augments his pain. Wherefore if even temporal evils, though very short, are sufficient to make former felicities of many years vanish: what impression will temporal goods make in us, if we employ our thoughts upon eternal evils?  
Besides this the eternity of torments in hell, which is to be suffered hereafter without profit, may move us to husband the short time of this life most to our advantage, and with the greatest fruit. How many miserable Souls now suffer those eternal pains for not employing one day in penance, nor endeavouring to make one good confession? What would a damned Soul give for one quarter of an hour out of so many days and years, which are lost, and shall not have one instant allowed him? Thou, who now livest, and hast time, lose not that which imports so much, and once lost, can never be redeemed. (Peter Reginaldus writes, that an holy Religious man, being in prayer, heard a most lamentable voice; whereupon demanding, Who he was, and Why he lamented; it was answered, I am one of the damned. And thou must know, That I and the rest of the damned Souls lament and bewail nothing more bitterly, than to have lost time in the sins we have committed. O miserable creatures, who for having lost a short space of time lose an eternity of felicity! They come to know too late the importance of that which they have lost, and shall never come to regain it.) Let us now make use of time whilst we may gain eternity; and let us not lose that with pleasure, which cannot be recovered with grief. Let us now weep for our sins with profit, that we way not weep for our pains without fruit. Let us hear what St. Bernard says; 
Bernard. Serm. 16. in Cant.  Who shall give water unto my head, and who shall give a fountain of tears unto mine eyes, that I may prevent weeping by weeping? Let us now weep in time and do penance with sorrow, that our tears may be dried up, and our sorrow forgotten, since eternal happiness is no less efficacious to make us forget the tears and grief of this life, than hell the pleasures of it. Wherefore Isaias saith, My former cares are forgotten, 
Isai. 65.  and are hid from mine eyes. Upon which words St. Jerome glosses. It is the effect of mirth and confession of the true God, that an eternal oblivion shall succeed precedent goiefs. For if former evils shall be forgotten, it is not with the oblivion of memory, but with the succession of so much good, according to that, In the good day an oblivion of evil. Lastly let us draw from the consideration of hell, a perfect hatred to all mortal sin, since from the evil of sin proceeds that evil of pain. Terrible is the evil of sin, since it cannot be satisfied even with eternal flames. But this requires a larger consideration, which we are now come unto.   

CAP. XIII.  
The infinite guilt of mortal Sin, by which we lose the felicity of heaven, and fall into eternal evils.  
THe horrible and stupendious malice of mortal sin is so foul and accursed, that though committed in an instant it deserves the torments of hell for all eternity; and an unlawful pleasure, enjoyed by a sinner but for one moment, deprives and disinherits him of eternal felicity. Because therefore the scope of this work is to beget such disesteem of temporal goods, as for them we may not lose the eternal, I thought it not besides my purpose to procure, as much as I could, a horror and detestation of sin, which is the occasion of the loss of heaven: and therefore intent in this place to say something of the malice of it, the rather because it conduces much to the knowledge of those differences, which are betwixt things temporal and things eternal; Whereof the most notable is, that as temporal goods are of that nature, that he who loves and seeks them with solicitude, most commonly falls into that horrible evil of sin: So he who loves and sets his heart on things eternal, secures himself against it. Besides, having treated of the eternal pains of hell, that we may not wonder at the severity of the Divine Justice, it was necessary that we should say something of the horrible and grievous malice of sin, for which so infinite a punishment is inflicted. Many admire that a sin committed in an instant should deserve the eternal punishment of so terrible and cruel torments. But this proceeds from their ignorance; because they know not the malice of a mortal sin. St. Austin, whose deep understanding was enlightened by an especial grace, wondered rather that there were not two Hells, and that a new one was not created for that Christian, who durst offend his God after he was incarnated for his redemption. And Divines generally affirm, that the chastisement of sin in hell is much less than it deserves. Who will not then admire this Monster of mischief, that being but one evil draws after it so many, and that one sin should deserve so many punishments, and yet have a malice capable of more?  
A terrible case that for a sin, which passed only in thought, which none knew but God, and he who committed it, and perhaps not he neither, as being uncertain and doubtful of his own consent, and which endured no longer than an instant, should yet be punished with so real and eternal pains. The reason is, That such is the intention of malice in sin, that it is equivalent to the extension of an infinite evil. The punishment and the sin are like the shadow and the body; The sin is the body and the solid evil, The punishment but as the shadow. And in the reason of a true and real evil, the sin as far exceeds the punishment of hell fire, as a man exceeds his shadow. For as that is truly and really a man, and this but a man in appearance: so sin is truly an evil, the pain only appears so, but is in truth a good, being an act of justice caused by God, who can cause no evil. Hence you may trace the malignity of a sin, in comparison whereof the pains of hell, although so terrible, are not evils, but their shadow; and may also learn, that the commission of a mortal sin is as much to be feared above the pains of eternity, as a real sword before its shadow. The sword kills, the shadow at most can but fright. So a mortal sin is that, which takes away the life of the Soul: the pains can only fear us: but without sin the torments of hell are not of power to kill or hurt us. See then what a fool thou art, if to avoid some temporal evil thou presumest to commit a mortal sin, which is as great a folly, as to sty from the shadow of a sword, and run thy self upon the point.  
It is true that sin is really an evil, and the eternal fire of Hell in comparison of it but a shadow; but by this shadow we may judge the greatness of the substance, and by the terribleness of the punishment the grievousness of the sin. For as by the shadow we know the bulk of the body, although we see it not: so by the pains of Hell we conjecture the malice and enormity of sin, which appears not. What would we say of a body, which, the Sun being at midday and in his height, should cast a shadow of an infinite extension? This could not be, unless the height of that body should rise unto the Sphere of the Sun, and being placed opposite unto it should thence produce so vast a shadow. In this manner sin causeth a pain of infinite extension, because the intention of its malice reaches so high, as to oppose itself unto God, who being the chief good, sin must needs become the chief evil; I speak of mortal sin. If we therefore tremble at the thought of Hell, we may shake at that of sin. Who is not amazed, that God should behold a creature of his own burning in flames, and should there leave him without compassion for all eternity? But this is not caused by want of goodness in God, but by excess of malice in sin: not because the mercy of God hath limits, but because the wickedness of man hath none. So heinous then is the offence of a mortal sin, that eternal flames cannot purge it, nor torments give a greater satisfaction, than what is due unto the Di-Justice. This is that, which the Lord said by Oseas; 
Osee 12.  Ephraim provoked me to wrath in his bitternesses; That is, us St. Jerome interprets it, with his wickedness he made me bitter and rigorous, who of myself was sweet and merciful. Such is the grievousness of sin, that it makes the sweetness, bounty, and divine pity of God not to companionate that Soul, which is in the bitterness of Hell.  

§ 2.  
Sin is then an infinite offence against God. Let it not therefore appear much unto him, who knows the ineffable greatness and perfection of the Divine essence, that though committed in an instant, it should deserve an eternity of punishment. For by how much greater is the Majesty of God, which is despised, by so much greater is the injury offered him; and therefore as the Majesty of God, which is despised by sin, is infinite, so the despite of it must contain in itself a certain kind of infinity. By how much greater is the reverence due to a person, by so much greater is the disrespect and affront offered him; And as to God there is due an infinite reverence, so the injury done him is of an inexplicable malice, which with no good works of a pure creature, how many and great soever, can be expiated. 
Lesle. de perfec. divi. li. 13. cap. 16. nu. 187.  So great (saith a grave Doctor) is the malignity of a mortal sin, that being put in the balance of Divine Justice it would outweigh all the good works of all the Saints, although they were a thousand times more and greater than they are. Which consideration, although most fearful, yet it ought not to seem incredible: because the good works, with which God is honoured by his Saints, although considered in themselves they are of great value, and by his grace worthy of eternal life, yet in respect of God, unto whom they add nothing, and who is nothing better by them, they are not valuable: Unto whose divine goodness, not only they but infinitely more and greater are but a debt. But for God to be despised by his Creature, who by infinite titles is obliged to serve him; and who ought to bear him (if he could) an infinite love, and reverence him with an infinite honour, is a thing so highly repugnant to his Majesty and benefits, that he apprehends it more in the nature of evil, than all the good works of the world in the nature of good: and if God were capable of grief, would more afflict him, than all the pious actions of the Saints content him. Certainly amongst men the honour, which is given to one, who deserves it, takes not so much, as a contempt done unto him, who merits it not. A King values not much the honour which is given him by his Vassals, because he takes it not for a courtesy but a duty; but to be outraged and scorned by one, especially whom he had favoured with his benefits, sticks near unto his heart; for not only Kings, but all men think honour due unto them, and disrespect an injury. And as fire being inordinately applied to the hand makes it sensible of a greater grief, that it can receive delight by being sound, because excessive heat is repugnant, and a natural temper due unto it; so disrespects and affronts offered to a noble personage, which are repugnant to his worth, grieves him more, than he can be pleased with all the honours and respects due unto him. There is no resentment amongst men so quick as that of dishonour, nor any thing which causes more grief and vexation. If some person of quality should have his hat plucked off from his head in scorn, and receive a dozen of bastonadoes from some base fellow, that affront would not be recompensed, although a thousand should put off their caps to him, and kiss his hand. By this may in some sort appear the stupendious irreverence and incivility towards God in a mortal sin; in so much as St. Paul calls it kicking or spurning the Son of God. And therefore it is no marvel, if one only grievous offence over-weigh all the service and honours done by the Saints and holy Angels, and that all that they have or can do, cannot in rigour satisfy for one mortal sin. This is the reason why it was necessary that God should become man, being the Divine Justice could not be appeased with less than the satisfaction of a Divine person. Let those therefore cease to marvel, that a momentary sin should be punished with eternal torments, who see that for sin God was made man, and died for man. And certainly it is a far greater wonder, that God should die for the sin of another, than that man should for his own sin suffer an eternal punishment. And if the malice of sin be so exorbitant, that nothing could satisfy for it less than God, it is nothing strange, that that, which hath no limit nor bound in evil, should have no limit in punishment, but should exceed all time, and be eternal. And if a treason committed against a temporal Prince be chastised with loss of life and goods of the Traitor, and with the punishment also of his posterity, which, in as much as concerns the Prince, is eternal: Why should not the offence of a vile worm against his Creator be tormented with eternal pains? The greatness of honour decreases and grows less according to the height and dignity of the person honoured, so as that honour, which done to an ordinary person, would seem excessive, given unto a Prince is nothing. And to the contrary the greatness of an injury rises and grows higher according to the worth of him, who is injured: so as God, who is infinite, being the person offended, deserves that the injury done unto him should be chastised with an infinite punishment at least in time, or that he, who satisfies for it, should be a person of infinite worth and perfection.  
From hence it follows, that the guilt of mortal sin being so horrid, there can be no satisfaction of a pure creature sufficient to expiate it, nor any merit which can deserve the pardon. Let us grant that Adam had never offended, nor contaminated the whole race of mankind with his sin. Let us grant that there had never been a sin of David, St. Paul, St. Austin, St. Marry Magdalene, or any other Man or Angel whatsoever, and that there had been but one only mortal sin, the least of all others, committed by a man in a wilderness without witness, by night, and that only in thought: yet such were the grievousness of this one sin, that for it no punishment of the creatures were sufficient to satisfy the Divine Justice. If God should ruin Heaven, throw down the Stars, dry up the Sea, confound the Elements, and strike whole mankind with thunder, all would not give an equal satisfaction to the Divine Justice for this one sin. For this destruction of Heaven and Earth and Man were but of things finite and limited, and the injured person is God, who is infinite, and betwixt finite and infinite there is no proportion. In like manner no merit of mere creatures were sufficient to deserve pardon for it. If all mankind should  themselves in sackcloth, and fast with bread and water, If all the Martyrs should offer up their torments, and all the Confessors their penances, and the very Mother of God all her virtues, and should dissolve herself into tears, all were not enough to deserve the pardon of that one sin; Only the Son of God could be sufficient satisfaction. Let men consider this; let them weigh the grievousness of a sin against God, and let them tremble at the very thought that possibly they may commit it.   

§. 3.  
The offence, which is done to God Almighty by a mortal sin, is in itself and in its own substance most grievous, as we have already observed; yet there are certain Circumstances, which do much increase the good or evil of that action, whereunto they are annexed: And that of sin is so accursed and abominable on all parts, that not one or two, but all circumstances joined together concur to make the insolence and malice of it most insupportable. We will therefore consider them, 
Tull. in Rhet●. S. The. 1.2. q. 7. ar. 3.  one by one. Tully, whom St. Thomas and the rest of Divines follow, makes them seven, which contribute much to the qualification of a moral action. The first, Who it is that doth it; The second, What it is he doth; The third, Where he does it; The fourth, With what helps; The fifth, Wherefore; The sixth, After what manner; and The seaventh, When he does it. 
Aristot. Eth. 3.  Unto these seven Aristotle adds another, About what it is. These circumstances are in absolute actions, which have no relation to another. For in actions, which have a respect to a third person, another circumstance ought much to be considered: which is, Against whom it is. Let us now see how in all those circumstances sin is most abominable and accursed. For if we consider Who it is that sins, it is a most vile and wretched man, who presumes to lift up his hands against his Creator. And what is Man but a Vessel of dung, a Sink of corruption, and by birth a Slave of the Devil? and yet he dares offend his Maker. An offence against God were most grievous, though from another God (if it were possible) infinite and equal to himself; but that his creature should be so audacious against his omnipotent Lord, is beyond amazement.  
But What is that, which a sinner does, when he offends? It is, according to St. Anselm, an endeavour to pluck the Crown from the head of God, and place it upon his own. It is, according to St. Bernard, to desire to murder his God. It is, according to the Apostle St. Paul, to kick and spurn against the Son of God. It is to crucify again the Lord of life. If any of these things were attempted against a Majesty upon earth, it were enough to make the offender's flesh to be plucked off with pincers, to have him torn in pieces with four horses, to pull down his house, and sow the place with salt, and make his whole Lineage infamous. If such an offence committed by one man against another, betwixt whom the difference is not great, being both equal in nature, be so heinous, what shall it deserve being committed against God the Lord and Creator of all, whose immense greatness is infinitely distant from the nature of his creature? O good God, who is able to explicate what a sinner does against thee and himself? he despises thy Majesty, razes out thy Law from his heart, laughs at thy Justice, scorns thy threats, despises thy promises, makes a solemn renunciation of thy glory thou hast promised him, and all to bind himself an eternal slave unto Satan, desiring rather to please thine enemy than thee, who art his Father, his Friend, and all his good: desiring rather to die eternally by displeasing thee, than to enjoy heaven for ever by serving thee.  
Let us now see Where and in What place a sinner presumes to sin, and be a Traitor unto his God. It is even in his own world, in his own house, and knowing that his Creator looks upon him, he offends him. If a sin were committed where. God could not see it, it were yet an enormous fault; but to injury his Creator before his face, what an unspeakable impudence? If he who sins could go into another world, where God did not inhabit, and there in secret under the earth should sin after such a manner as only himself should know it, yet it were a temerarious boldness; but to sin in his own house, which is this world, what hell doth it not deserve? For a man only to lay his hand upon his sword in the Palace of a King is capital, and deserves death. For a sinner then by his sins to spurn and crucify the Son of God, in the house of his Father, and before his face, what understanding can conceive the greatness of such a malice? And therefore David with reason dissolved himself into tears, because he had sinned in the presence of God, and with a grief, which pierced his heart, cried out, I have done evil before thee. Besides this, we not only sin against God in his own house, but even in his arms, whilst we are upheld by his omnipotency. If there were a Son so wicked, who whilst he was cherished in his Mother's bosom, should strike and buffet her, and endeavour to kill her with his poniard, every one would think that Child some Devil incarnate. How then dares man offend God, who sustains, preserves, and hath redeemed him? Certainly that Christian ought to be esteemed worse than a Devil.  
The heinousness of this malice in sin is much augmented by the Helps, which a sinner uses to effect it. For he turns those very divine benefits, which he hath received from God, against him, who gave them. The sense, which men usually have of ingratitude, is most apprehensive. If to forget a benefit be ingratitude, to despise it is an injury: but to use it against the Benefactor, I know not how to call it. This does he who sins, making use of those creatures, which God created for his service, to offend him, and convert his divine benefits into arms against God himself. What could we say, if a King to honour his Soldier should make him a Knight, arm him with his own arms, and should gird his sword about him with his own hands, and that the Soldier, so soon as he was possessed of the sword, should draw it against the King, and murder him? This wickedness, which seems impossible amongst men, is ordinary in man towards God; who being honoured so many ways by his Creator, and enriched by so many benefits, for as much as in him lies, bereaves God of his honour, and, according to St. Bernard, desires to bereave him of his life. His understanding, which he received from God, he uses in finding out a way to execute his sin; with his hands he performs it, and with all his power offends him, who gave them. Besides, the impudence of man arrives at that height, that he makes God himself assist him to sin. This is that, which our Lord much complains of, when he says by his Prophet, You made me serve you in your wickedness; because God concurring to every action and natural motion of man, who without his concurrence could neither move hand, nor foot, nor tongue, man disposing his tongue to murmur, and his hand to steal, makes use of the concourse of God against God himself. Who is so pitiless and inhuman to enforce the Father to assist in the murder of his only Son, compelling the Father's hand to execute the stroke, which is to pierce the heart of his only begotten? Equivalent to this is done by a sinner, making God to concur to an action, by which man sinning crucifies again the Son of God. What cruelty is this in a sinner, who for this only impiety deserves a thousand deaths?  
But if we shall consider, Why man does this: it is a circumstance which will amaze us at the malice of sin. Why does a sinner give this disgust unto his God? Wherefore does he despise his Creator? Wherefore is he a Traitor unto the Lord of the World? Wherefore does he kick and spurn at Jesus Christ? Wherefore does he abhor his Redeemer? Wherefore crucifies he the Son of God? What reason hath he for so monstrous a wickedness? Is it perchance, because the world should not be ruined? Is it perchance, because his salvation stands upon it? Is it perhaps to make himself a God? Is it perhaps in respect or for love of another God? No, it is none of these, but only for a base and filthy pleasure, for a foolish fancy of man, because he will, and no more. O horrid insolence! O mad fury of men, which without a cause so grievously offend their Creator! How is it, that the Heavens resolve not into thunderbolts, and throw a thousand deaths upon them, who do and dare by their sins irritate and offend so good and gracious a God?  
The Manner also of our sinning would astonish any, who should seriously consider it. It is with so much impudence, contempt of God, and such a Luciferian pride: After having heard so many examples of his chastisements executed upon sinners, After having seen that the most beautiful and glorious of all the Angels, and with him innumerable others were thrown from Heaven, and made firebrands in Hell for one sin, and that only in thought, After having seen the first man for one sin of gluttony banished from the Paradise of pleasure into this valley of tears, despoiled of so many supernatural endowments, and condemned to death, After having seen the World drowned, and the Cities of Pontapolis burnt with fire from Heaven, After having seen those seditious against Moses swallowed by the earth, and with their Children, Goods and Family sink alive into Hell, After having known that so many have been damned for their offences, After that the Son of God had suffered upon the Cross for our sins, After all this to sin, is an impudence never heard of, and an intolerable contempt of the Divine Justice. Besides, what greater scorn and contempt of God than this, that God, who is worthy of all honour and love, and the Devil, who is our professed enemy, pretending both to our Souls, the one to save them, the other to torment them in eternal flames, yet we adhere to Satan, and prefer him before Christ our Saviour and Redeemer, and that so much to our prejudice, as by the loss of eternal glory, and captivating ourselves unto eternal torments and slavery? No way of injuring can be imagined more injurious, than when by the interposing of some other vile and infamous, he, who is worthy of all love and honour, is put by and slighted. The manner also of sinning aggravates the sin, as the sinner doth, by losing thereby eternal goods. Though he, who sinneth, lost nothing, yet the offence against God were great, and the affront to Reason itself not inconsiderable. But well knowing the great damages, and punishments likewise, that attend sin, and the evident hazard he runs, and yet to sin, is a strange temerity and impudence.  
If we shall likewise consider, When it is that we sin, we shall finde this circumstance no less to aggravate our offences than the former; Because we now sin, When we have seen the Son of God nailed unto the Cross, that we should not sin: When we have seen God so sweet unto us, as to be incarnate for our good, humbling himself to be made man, and subjecting himself to death, even the death of the Cross for our redemption: having instituted the holy Sacraments for a remedy against sin, especially that of his most holy Body and Blood, which was a most immense expression of his love. To sin after we had seen God so good unto us, so obliging unto us with those not to be imagined favours, is a Circumstance which ought much to be pondered in our hearts, and might make us forbear the offending of so loving a Lord. And that Christian who sins after all this, is to be esteemed worse than a Devil. For the Devil never sinned against that God, who had shed his blood for him, or who had been made an Angel for him, or who had pardoned so much as one sin of his. When those sinned, who were under the law of nature, they also had not seen the Son of God die for their salvation, as a Christian hath; for which, as St. Austin says, There ought a new Hell to be made for him. And there is no doubt but Christians will deserve new torments, and greater than those, who have not had the knowledge of God, nor received so many benefits from him. This is confirmed by what is written of St. Macarius the Abbot, who finding in the Desert a dead man's head, and removing it with his staff out of the way, it began to speak, which he hearing, demanded, Who it was. It answered, I am a Priest of the Gentiles, which heretofore dwelled in this place, and am now together with many of them in the middle of a burning fire, so great, that the flames encompass us both above and beneath. And is there, replied the Saint, any place of greater torment? Yes, said the dead; Greater is that, which they suffer who are below us. For we, who knew not God, are not so severely dealt with, as those who knowing have denied him, or not complied with his holy will. These are below us, and suffer far greater torments than we.  
These are the Circumstances observed by Tully, and are all found to aggravate the guilt of our sins. Neither is that, added by Aristotle, wanting; which is, About what. About what do we offend God? About what happens this great presumption, but about things which import not, but rather endamage us; About complying with a sensual gust, which in the end bereaves us of health, of honour, of substance, and even of pleasure itself, suffering many days of grief for a moment of delight; About things of the earth, which are vile and transitory: and about goods of the world, which are false, short, and deceitful. What would we say, if for a thing of so small value as a straw one man should kill another? No more than a straw are all the felicities of the world in respect of those of heaven; and for a thing of so small consideration we are Traitors to God, and crucify Christ again, and that a thousand times, as often as we sin mortally against him.  
Lastly, Against whom we offend much aggravates our sins. For besides that God is most perfect, most wise, beautiful, immense, omnipotent, infinite, we sin against him, who infinitely loves us, who suffers us, who heaps his benefits and rewards upon us. To do evil to those, who make much of them, even wild beasts abhor it. What is it then for thee to injure him, who loved thee more than himself; who hath done thee all good, that thou shouldest do no evil? Fear then this Lord, reverence his Majesty, love his goodness, and offend him no more. This only consideration, To have sinned against so good a God, was so grievous unto David, that in his penitential Psalms, he exclaims with tears, and cries out from the bottom of his heart, Against thee only have I sinned. For although he had sinned against Urias, and against all Israel by his ill example, yet it seemed unto him, he had only sinned against God, when he considered the infinity of his being, the immenseness of that love, which he had so grievously offended. Sin then is on all parts most virulent, on all parts spits forth venom. Behold it on every side, it still seems worse; for being the chiefest evil, it can on no part appear good: all is monstrous, all poison, all detestable, all most evil, and therefore deserves all evil. And it is not much, that that should be chastised with eternal torments, which opposes itself unto the sweetness of an infinite holiness.   

§ 4.  
Sin is so evil, that it is every way evil. It is not only evil as it is an injury to God, but it is evil in itself in its own nature. For if there were no God, or that God were not offended with it, yet it were a most abominable and horrid evil, the greatest of all evils, and the cause of all. In regard of this deformity and filthiness of sin, the Philosophers judged it to be abhorred above all things. Aristotle said, 
Aristotle. 3. Eth.  it were better to die than to do any thing against the good of virtue. And Seneca and Peregrinus with more resolution said; Although I were certain that men should not know it, and that God would pardon it, yet I would not offend for the very filthiness of sin. For this Tully said, That nothing could happen unto man more horrible, than a fault. And even those Philosophers, who denied the immortality of the Soul, and the providence of God, affirmed, that nothing should make us to commit it. And there hath not wanted some Gentiles, who have suffered great extremities to avoid a vicious act. 
Plut. in Demetrio.  Democles, as Plutarch writes, chose rather to be boiled in scalding water, than to consent to a filthy act. With reason Hippo is celebrated amongst the Greek Matrons, who chose rather to die than offend. Neither was that horror less, which Verturius conceived against uncleanness, who suffered prison, whips, and rigorous torments rather than he would sin against chastity. Equal to this, was that of the most beautiful youth Espurina, of whom Valerius Maximus and St. Ambrose write, 
Ambl. l. 3. de Virg.  That he slashed and wounded his fair face, that it should not give occasion to others of offence even by desire. All those were Gentiles, who knew not Christ crucified for man, nor saw hell open for the punishment of sinners, nor fled from sin because it was an offence unto God, but only for the enormity and filthiness it had in itself. This made them endure prisons and tortures rather than admit it. What then should Christians do, who know their Redeemer died to the end they should not sin, and how much sin is offensive to God? Certainly they ought rather to give a thousand lives and souls, than once to injure their Creator by committing an offence, which not only Gentiles, but even Nature hath in horror, which hath planted in brute beasts, although they cannot sin, yet a natural aversion from that which looks like sin. John Marquis of Gratis desired much to have a Foal from a generous Mare, which he had, by her own Son: but could never effect it; neither would she ever admit him, until deceived by clothing him in such sort, as she knew him not. But when he was unclothed, and she discovered the deceit, she fell into that sorrow and sadness, that after she would never feed, but pined herself to death. The like is reported by Jovianus Pontanus of a delicate Bitch of his, which he could never (although he caused her to be held) make to couple with her Son. So foul and horrible is but the shadow and image of sin even unto brute beasts. Why should not men then, who are capable of reason, and have an obligation unto God's commandments, say and think with St. Anselm, 
Lib. de simil. c. 19  If I should see on this part the filthiness of sin, and on the other the terror of hell, and it were necessary for me to fall into one of them, I would rather cast myself into hell, than admit of sin: For I had rather enter pure into Hell, than to enjoy the Kingdom of Heaven contaminated with sin. Whosoever than he be, who is infected with that horrible evil of a mortal sin, he cannot choose but be most miserable and wretched. For, as St. chrysostom says, 
Chrysost. Tom. 5. Ser. 5. de ie.  The greatest evil is to be evil. And although the Chirurgeon do not cut the cankered flesh, yet the ulcerated Patient will not be freed from his infirmity. So although God should not punish a Sinner, yet he would not be free from the evil, death, misery, and abomination of sin. And therefore St. Austin says; 
Aug. To. 8. in. Ps. 49.  Although we could cause, that the day of Judgement should not come, yet we ought not to live ill. This monstrous deformity of sin our Lord was pleased to express by a visible Monster, and that after a most strange manner, as is related by Villaveus. He writes, 
Villaveus lib. 8. c. 35.  that in the year 1298. Cassanus King of the Tartars with an Army of 200000 horse entering Syria made himself Master of it, and brought a great terror upon all those neighbouring Countries; in so much as the King of Armenia delivered him his Daughter, although she were a Christian, and he an Infidel, to be his Wife. Not long after the Queen proved with child; and, when her time came, was delivered, not of a Child, but of a most horrible and deformed Monster. Whereat the barbarous King being astonished and incensed, by the advice of his Council commanded that she should be put to death as an Adulteress. The poor Lady grieving to die with the imputation of a sin, whereof she was innocent, commended herself to our Saviour, and by divine inspiration desired, that before her death the Thing, which she had brought forth, might be baptised: which was granted; and no sooner performed, but that Monster became a most beautiful and goodly Boy; and the King amazed at the miracle, with many other of his Subjects became Christian, acknowledging by what had happened the beauty of Grace, and the deformity of Sin, although that deformity proceeded not from any actual sin either mortal or venial, from which the Child was free, but only from Original guilt, which without the fault of his proper will descended unto him from his Parents. The deformity of sin comes from the contrariety of it to reason, which renders a Sinner more foul and ugly than the most horrid Monster, and more dead in soul, than a putrid and dead Carcase. Pliny admires the force of lightning, which melts the gold and silver, and leaves the Purse, which contained it, untouched. Such is sin, which kills the Soul, and leaves the Body sound and entire. It is a flash of lightning sent from Hell, and worse than Hell itself, and such leaves the Soul, which it hath blasted.  
What shall I then say of the evils which it causes? I will only say this, that though it were the best thing of the world, yet for the evil effects, which it produces, it ought to be avoided more than death. It bereaves the soul of grace, banishes the holy Ghost, deprives it of the right of heaven, despoiles man of all his merits, makes him unworthy of divine protection, and condemns a sinner unto eternal torments in the other world, and in this to many disasters; for there is neither plague, war, famine, nor infirmity of body, whereof sin hath not been in some sort the occasion; and therefore those who weep for their afflictions, let them change the object of their tears, and weep for the cause, which is their sins. These are they, which ought to be lamented, these only deserve our tears: and all the tears in the world are net sufficient to bewail the least of them. When our Saviour was led to be crucified, he commanded they should not weep for him but for their sons. Those sons are our sins engendered from our corrupt nature: let us weep for them. Finally, such is the malice of a mortal sin, that he who commits it, deservs the eternal pains of Hell; and we ought rather to suffer a thousand Hells, than once to commit it.  
The love of things temporal opens the way to this Monster of malice, and the desire of things eternal shuts it up. Let every one therefore consider where he places his affections. Let him hear Ecclesiasticus, who says, The heart of a wise man in his right hand, and the heart of a fool in his left; because the wise man places his affection in that which is eternal, and the fool in that which is temporal, as St. Jerome interprets it, who says, He, who it wise, ever thinks of the world to come, which leads him to the right hand; and be, who is a fool, thinks only of the present, which is placed on the left. How deceived shall the lovers of the world find themselves, when they shall see, that for their sins they are placed on the left hand of the Son of God, Judge of the quick and the dead? and how shall the lovers of Heaven rejoice to be placed on his right, as heirs of eternal glory? Abundance and prosperity in temporal goods uses to be a greater occasion of sin, than either a moderate fortune, or an absolute poverty. Wherefore Christ our Redeemer counselled them, who desired to follow him in perfection, that they should pluck from their hearts all affections, which either had, or might be occasion of sin. When the Maccabees recovered Jerusalem, 
1 Macah. 4.  and entering into the Temple found the Altar of Holocausts profaned, there was a great doubt amongst them, whether they should use it, because it had been sometimes dedicated to God, or destroy it, because it had been employed in the service of the Devil. The Scripture says, That a good counsel came into their thoughts, which was to destroy it, and make a new one. This good counsel let us follow: let us destroy what hath or may be an occasion of sin; and if the Maccabees plucked down that, which had been dedicated to God, because it had been a means for others to sin, let us quit the occasion, wherein not others, but we ourselves have offended, which is our affections to temporal goods, and settle them upon the eternal.     

THE FIFTH BOOK OF THE DIFFERENCE BETWIXT THE TEMPORAL and ETERNAL.  

CAP. I.  
Notable difference betwixt the Temporal and Eternal, the one being the End, the other the Means. Where is also treated of the End, for which man was created.  
HItherto we have spoken of the difference and distance betwixt the Temporal and the Eternal, comparing the one with the other, and considering them rather in their proper nature and substance, than the exterior respects and relations, which they have unto others. We will now begin to consider them from thence also, that it may appear that the things of the earth (on what side soever you look upon them) are most vile and despicable, but the eternal of great worth and value. There are many things, which, although in themselves they are held as vile and sordid, yet for some respect or circumstance become of great esteem. But things temporal as well in their own proper essence and being, as in the  relations and respects they have unto others, as they are amongst Angels most contemptible, so ought they to be amongst Men, because really, and in themselves they are so. Vile and base they are, because little, mutable, and transitory. And although in their own nature they were most precious and eternal, yet with us they ought to be of no value, because they are our Means and not our End: created to be our Slaves, and to serve us, and not adored by us as Masters, because they have been the instrument of our sins: and because the Son of God descended from Heaven, and died, that we might despise them. These Circumstances, although they were in themselves of worth and value, yet unto us ought to render them most odious and contemptible.  
Here then is the great difference betwixt the temporal and eternal, That the one is the End, and the other but the Means; the Eternal is the end of man, but of the Temporal man himself is the end. The eternal is man's utmost perfection, and his perpetual happiness; the temporal only to be made use of for obtaining the eternal, so as the eternal, being our end, is to be loved and desired for itself, the temporal to be made no account of, but as it may conduce to the obtaining of the eternal. This being a matter of so great importance, it is fitting that we seriously consider it. Open then thine eyes, O man, and reflect Wherefore thou wert born. All things have some end for which they are, and thou also oughtest to have one. Thou camest not into the world for nothing; for something thou wert created. Open thine eyes, and see for what, and having found it, wander not from it; for if thou dost, thou art for ever lost. What Traveller sets not before his eyes the place, whither he intends to go and rest? what Artificer, who proposes not unto himself some Idea, which he is to imitate in his work? Wherefore then dost thou live without thinking why life was given thee? Know that thou wert born for God, and for nothing less than God and his service. For this life was bestowed upon thee: for this thou wert drawn from a not being to a being, and didst pass from nothing to a reasonable creature, so many thousands remaining uncreated, who would have served God (if they had a being) better than thyself. See then what thou owest him for this bounty; wherein are included two most incomparable benefits; The one for having created thee, setting apart so many worthier creatures: The other, for having given thee the most noble and excellent end, that possibly can be imagined, which is himself. When the Children of Israel past the Red Sea, and Pharaoh and his Soldiers were drowned in their pursuit, the Lord would have them celebrate this great benefit for even; and Moses and all the people sung praises and thanks unto the Lord for their deliverance. See then what thou owest unto God for having past thee from a not being unto a being, an infinity of other creatures possible remaining drowned in the abyss of nothing. Forget not therefore the benefit of thy Creation, by which from nothing thou becamest a man, and wert made capable of eternal happiness. David forgot it not: and therefore to his 75. Psalm gives this remembrance for a Title, For the end, For him who passes, or leaps from the other part; because he, who passes from nothing to be a Creature capable of reason and glory, ought always to look upon the end, for which he was created, and from that consideration to make a change of his life, as David did of his; who confesses in the same Psalm, That his change came from the right hand of the most high. Let us then, as he did, remember to change our customs, from tepid to become fervent, and from Sinners just; because the end, for which we were created, is only God. This only consideration of so high an end will be able to work a change in us. And for this reason David gave this Title to another Psalm, To the end; For those that are to be changed, or altered. The holy Prophet well knew the importance of this mindefulness of our last end, and therefore he repeated it in his Psalms, to the end that having our attention always fixed upon it, we should not cease to aim at it, nor spoil our intentions by the mixture of other thoughts of less consideration: as he gives to understand in the Inscription of his Psalm 74, which says Unto the end; Corrupt not. Another Version says: To the end: Lose not; As if he should say: Look upon the end, for which thou art created, to the end thou mayst not lose it. Let us also consider that glory being no ways due unto our nature, yet God out of his mercy created us to enjoy it; and when he might have made us for a natural felicity and perfection, was pleased to create us for a supernatural. Other creatures he made for us, but us for himself. There is no creature hath a more noble end than we; there is neither Seraphin nor Archangel that surpasses us in this. Let us therefore know the value of it, that we may not lose it, and with it ourselves.  
Consider also that if God should not have made thee for himself, nor to the end thou mightest serve him, but had left the free and at liberty, and had only given thee a being, yet even for that thou owest him all what thou art. The Son, although the Father be not his end, yet owes him all respect and reverence, because he begat him. The Husbandman, who plants a tree, hath right unto the fruit. God therefore, who created and planted thee, hath right unto thee and all that thou art. And if his right be such for making thee, it is no less for ordaining thee for himself. There is no Dominion so absolute, (as both Divines and Philosophers affirm) as that of the End over those things, which are in order to it; in so much as Marcilius Ficinus says; 
Mar. Ficinus l. 1. Epis.  The end is a Lord more excellent than those things, which as Servants and Ministers relate unto it. For this reason man, although he be neither the Creator nor utmost end of Corporal things, yet because he is their immediate end, and that they were ordained for his use, is their Lord, and God, who is the utmost end of man and them, is the Lord of all.  
Philo calls the End the head of things. For as a Prince is the absolute head and Lord of his vassals and Kingdom, so the End is Lord and head of those things, which have a relation unto it; and therefore man, who is wholly from God and for God, ought not to stir a hand or a foot but in order to his service. One of the Philosophers calls the End The cause of causes; another, The principal of all causes. If therefore unto God, because he is thy efficient cause, thou owest him what thou art, for being thy final cause thou owest him more than thou art. For this obligation looks not upon that which thou hast received, which is thy finite and limited being, but upon that for which thou art ordained, which is a being divine, infinite and without limit. Even God himself, as he is the efficient cause of things, doth as it were serve himself, as he is the chief good and Final cause of things, and doth not make them but for this end. What right then hast thou to work for any thing but God, since God doth not, nor will work for any thing but himself. The End is the cause of causes; and therefore if thou owest thyself unto God for being thy Maker, thou owest thyself unto him for being thy End; for he had not been thy Maker, if it had not been for some End, which was the cause of thy creation.  

§. 2.  
Consider the force of the End in the several Orders of things Natural, Artificial, and Moral, that thou mayest from hence gather what force it ought to have in things supernatural. With what violence do the the Elements tend unto their centre, because it is their End? With what force doth a stone fall from high, and with what violence doth it press unto its natural place, and bears down all before it? And the fire, that it may attain his Sphere, how it mounts above the highest hills and rocks? Consider a great Stone hung in the air by some Cable, how it strives to get lose, and being at liberty with what violence it falls upon the earth, with what speed and earnestness, without stay or diversion to one part or other, it tends strait to its Centre. In this manner thou oughtest to seek after thy Lord God, with all the powers of thy soul, with all the forces of thy body, and all the affections of thy heart; all thy inclinations are to tend that way: thou art to go directly to him without diverting on either hand, or looking upon any creature, which may detain thee, bearing down all things temporal before thee. A stone, that it may attain its end, sticks not to fall in water, fire, or to be dashed in a thousaud pieces; and thou, that thou mayest attain thy God, art not to stop at any thing, not at the loss of goods, or honour, or at the very tearing of thy members in pieces; and, as our Saviour says, If thy Eye scandalise thee, pluck it out, or cut off thy Foot or Hand, if it offend thee; for it is better to enter into heaven blind or lame, then to fall into hell fire sound and entire. Things natural find no quiet, but in their Centre; and the Mariner's needle rests not but when it beholds the North; no more shall the Soul ever meet with repose but in God. And certainly the cause of the greatest miseries and afflictions in the world proceeds from our deviating from God, who is our only End and eternal happiness. Let the heart of man therefore undeceive itself; for it shall never find quiet and content but in its Creator.  
If we come to things Artificial, Those which are not directed to some end, what are they but a disorderly confusion? If a Painter should draw his lines without proposing any Idea unto himself, what would be the issue of his work but a great blot? If in painting some great Captain, he should instead of a Sword place in his hand a Distaff, what a ridiculous figure would he make? If a Statuary should give a number of great strokes upon a piece of wood without intention of making an Image, he would do nothing but weary himself, and spoil the wood and his instruments. This thou dost in all thy works, when thou lookest not upon God and eternity as thy end; thou dost only make a blot of thy life, and losest thyself and those creatures, which thou usest otherways then for the obtaining of heaven. God created thee according to his image, to the end thou shouldst perfect that image, and make it every day more like unto thy Creator. But thou not looking upon him in thy actions, makest thyself a monster, and confoundest and blotest out his divine Image. Finally as all, which is done in art without order to the end, is error, so all, that thou dost without looking upon God as thy utmost end, is confusion and perdition of thyself. Reflect then wherein thou mayest at last conclude: since thou hast so often forgotten God and wandered from thy end.  
If we look upon Moral works or humane actions, When they are not proportioned to their Ends, what are they but madness and indiscretion? for what is madness, but a diversion of things from their end? If one who were desirous to avoid cold, should strip himself naked, and fly from the fire, would not all say this man were mad? and wherein consists his madness, but in not fitting things to the end he aims at. Thou art no wiser thyself, if desiring and seeking thy own good and happiness, thou fliest from God, and dost not follow him in all thy actions. This, as St. Austin notes, is the error of man, who naturally loving happiness, by mistaking the way to find it, becomes miserable. Who but a fool or a mad man, fit to be bound in chains, having great thirst would fill himself with Salt? and yet all this folly consists in nothing but not proportioning the means unto their end. He who is dry aught to go to some fountain, and there to quench his thirst; and man, who desires to ease his heart, is to repair unto God, and there he shall find rest. To divert himself after the creatures, and there to feed his pleasures, is no other than to eat Salt, which increases his thirst and appetite, and scorches his Entrails. We are fools therefore in not looking upon God in all our actions, and not ordering them unto him as to our end. He were to be esteemed a Sot, who being to light a Lamp would fill it with water instead of oil, and yet strive and trouble himself to make it burn. These follies we commit every day, when we use the Creatures to other ends then the service of God; so as they can neither kindle in us the fire of his love, nor sustain the lustre and dignity of the reasonable Soul. From all than which is said it follows, That what is not adapted to its proper end, is contemptible, monstrous, and unprofitable. For this reason David said, All have declined, that is, All have wandered from their end, which is God, and are made unprofitable. Man therefore, whilst he servs not his Creator, is a thing vain and stands for nothing; and it were much better for him not to be, than not to order himself to his end. The Labourer, who hath planted a tree to the end it should bring him fruit, if it yield none, plucks it up by the roots and burns it; And in the Gospel the barren Figtree was commanded to be cut down.   

§ 3.  
This force of the Final cause is such, that things ordering themselves unto it, receive a better being, and a more noble estimation from their end, how mean soever, then from any thing they can attain, which is not their end, though never so precious. A Spade receives his value from digging the earth, and for that end is esteemed and bought by the Labourer; but if you give it a Painter to limm with, he will not allow it a place in his shop. The Sick man, whilst he is infirm, will pay any thing for a bitter purge, which being well he hates. Even vessels for unclean offices, being placed in Corners, are of use and sought for; but set upon a Cupboard are a scorn. So much it imports things to be accommodated unto their proper End; which how vile and base soever gives them estimation: but severed from it, though they mount unto the Clouds, they lose their value. Mark then in what condition is that man, who seeks not after God, and addresses not his actions unto him, who is so high an End. It is also to be considered, That as there is nothing so base, which being applied unto his proper end, hath not some good: so there is nothing, how precious soever, which being diverted from his end, loses not his worth. He, who is ready to die for thirst, will esteem a little water out of a ditch more than all the treasures of the world: so Lysimachus valued a Jar of water above his Kingdom. From whence it follows, that it is the End, which gives things their value and estimation.  
Open then thine eyes, and consider, That thou art not in the world for nothing: That thou wert not created without a Wherefore, and for What; thou hast an end, and oughtest to pursue it: and if thou neglectest it, thou art worse than when thou wert not. Thou hast an End, and the greatest and most high, that can be thought of, which is the glory of God. Certainly if God had only created thee to serve him without hope to enjoy him, or ever to attain unto his glory, yet thou oughtest to have esteemed it highly. The Queen of Saba, when she beheld the greatness, 
3 Reg. 10.  wisdom, and majesty of King Solomon, cried out with wonder, Blessed are thy Servants, which stand here in thy presence. If this wise Lady held it for a happiness to serve Solomon, what an honour and felicity is it to serve God? But that infinite goodness was not content that thy End should be only to serve, but that thou should pass so fare as to enjoy him, and be partaker of his own blessedness. In this high End thou art not only equal unto Angels, but a sharer with God, who as he hath no other end or blessedness but himself, so he would not that thou shouldst have a less End or happiness than thy Creator. Thou wert born then for a great good, since thou wert born sor the chiefest good. 
Mal. l. 2. Sent.  Whereupon the Master of sentences says, God created the rational nature, that he might know the chief good, and knowing and loving it might possess it, and possessing it enjoy it. God created the Elements for those natures, which have life; He created the herbs of the field for those creatures, which have sense; Those which have sense for Man: and man for an End, which should surpass all, as being created, not for an end within nature, but for one above it, a supernatural and divine End. Know therefore how to esteem it: and having received so great an honour, disgrace not thyself by stooping to things of a lower condition. 
De Novis. art. 56.  Well said Dionysius Richell. Since the dignity of man is so great, who is created for so excellent an end, the felicity of Angels, and the clear contemplation and fruition of his most glorious Creator, Is it not a great ingratitude, baseness, and folly of carnal and wicked men to turn from their God, and not regarding so great happiness, to place their selicity in things carnal, transitory, vain, base and unclean, that is, in the delights of the flesh, the riches of the world, and in humane praise and glory? for whosoever sins mortally, prefers the Creature before the Creator, places his end in a thing frail and created, adhering more unto that than his Maker, which must needs be a great injury to God, and a contempt of that felicity, for which he created us. Have this still before thine eyes, That thy End is greater than the World, since it is God, which created the World. Consider that by how much the honour is greater to be ordained for so excellent an end, by so much the ignominy is greater to deflect from it. Know therefore thine own worth and dignity, and preserve it, and direct all thy works and actions to so glorious a mark; and since God hath created thee for the same End with Angels, live like an Angel, and endeavour to fill up their seats, and to be a companion of their glory. If is a great privilege of humane nature, that being in substance inferior to that of Angels, yet it may equal and excel it in happiness. For God, that the Angels might attain their End, proportioned his grace conformable unto their natures, giving more unto the more perfect: but unto Men, he gives his grace without this restriction, so as man, if he please, may be more than an Angel.  
The ancient Philosophers knew very well the great importance of the End of man, and were therefore very solicitous in finding out what it was, that having once found it, they might direct the actions of their life unto it. For they said, and truly, That all they did was error, if first the end of man, whereunto humane actions might be addressed, were not known; And therefore Marcus Aurelius said in his Philosophy, That they dote, 
Antoninus l. 2. Philos.  who propose not unto themselves some mark, whereunto they may address all their thoughts and endeavours. But after that they had once agreed, that the end of man was to live conformable unto his nature, what did not many of them then do to adjust their actions, and obtain it? what excellent lessons, and instructions did they leave us? and although the End of man in their opinion did not transcend humane nature; yet the Stoics and Cynics forsook honours, wealth, and pleasures, that they might the better accommodate their lives and actions unto it: living not only without doing ill, but doing, what they thought to be, good, maintaining still, that we ought in all things to conform ourselves unto virtue: and all this for that natural End, which they had found out; 
Philo de Migr. Abraham.  Concerning which Philo speaks these words; The End, so celebrated by the most excellent Philosophers, is to live according to nature: and this is done, when the Soul entering by the way of virtue walks in the paths of right reason, and follows God, ever mindful of his Commandments, and observing them with firmness in all his words and actions. If man than ought to do this in order to his natural End, what ought he to do in order to his supernatural, and to Eternity? Antoninus the Philosopher, judging that the End of man was to live according to nature, thought it a great madness not to conform himself to the accidents of life, and bear them with calmness and equality of mind; insomuch as he said, To do otherways was the plague-sore, and imposthume of the World. What would he have said of committing grievous and deadly sins, which separate us from God, who is above all nature, and the Author of it? He was so solicitous in ordering himself to this End, that from morning until night all his thoughts were busied in the contemplation of the End, whereunto he was born, and in fitting his actions to comply with it. 
M. Aur. Anton. Phil. l. 5. in princ.  Whereupon he gives us this advice. In the morning when thou risest, and findest thyself oppressed with sleep and sloth, have this thought ever in readiness, that thou risest to exercise the actions of a man, and shalt therefore say unto thyself, Whence comes it, that thou so sluggishly goest about that, for which thou wert born, and for which thou camest into the world? wert thou perhaps born to pamper thyself in a soft and warm Bed? This indeed is pleasing, but wert thou born for thy gust and pleasure, and not for labour? seest thou not how Plants, Spiders, Aunts, Bees, and all things employ themselves in their proper duties: and thou only refusest to exercise the office of a reasonable man in what appertains unto thy nature? I confess some refreshment is necessary; but in this Nature hath prescribed a rule, as in eating and drinking; but thou in this passest what is sufficient, and in what thou oughtest to do fallest short, and reachest not unto reason. This happens, because thou dost not love thyself; for if thou didst, thou wouldst comply with thy nature and her commands. Those Craftsmen, who love and take pleasure in their arts, employ themselves so seriously in them, that they neither think of bathing nor feeding; but thou prisest not thy nature so much as a Turner or Comedian doth his Trade, or a Covetous man his gold, or an Ambitious man his vain glory. For these, that they may attain at what they aim, forget both food and sleep; but thou esteemest the actions, proper to a reasonable Soul, unworthy of labour or solicitude. All this is from that wise Emperor, who from the consideration of his End and Nature animated himself to comply with his duty and obligation.   

§. 4.  
From what is spoken we are to gather the estimation we are to have of the Eternal, and with what earnestness we are to desire and seek it, since it is the End, for which we were only born: and that for itself we are not so much as to look at the Temporal, as not being at all ordained for it. But that we may likewise see what use we are to make of it, and the difference arising betwixt it and the Eternal, The one being our End, and The other at best but our Mean, to obtain it, As we have already declared the nature of the Eternal, so we will with as much brevity, as is possible, explicate the nature of the Temporal, the which as a Medium hath no other reason to be loved or valued by us, but as it conduces to our chief End, which is God and his glory. For as a Soldier, when he is in health, values not the Physician and his Medicines, because they avail him not to the conquering of his Enemy: and when he is sick or hurt, cares not to put on his arms, because they conduce not to the recovery of his health: In the like manner we are to keep our hearts and wills free and disinterressed from any thing, but that which leads to our End and Salvation. The Traveller, who is fixed in his determination of arriving to some certain place, if he meet with two or three several ways, desires not this more than that, but only in as much as this may more readily bring him to his rest. He cares not whether it be plain or hilly, whether it lead to the right hand or to the left: all is indifferent, so it bring him whither he pretends. After the like manner we are to behave ourselves in the use of things temporal. We are neither to love the Goods of this World, nor fear the Evils of it: but free from both, make only choice of that which leads to our Salvation. If poverty bring thee to God, embrace it with both arms and esteem it; If riches and greatness withdraw thee from him, trample them under foot, despise and cast them from thee, as if they were poison; If disgraces and neglect of men assist thee to gain Heaven, rejoice in thy affronts; If honours make thee forget thy Creator, abhor them as death; If pleasures distract thee from him, unto whom thou owest so much, deprive thyself of the contents of this life, that thou mayest not lose those of the other; And if grief or torments make thee know thy Redeemer, receive them with all submison and willingness. Wherefore thou art neither to desire, or abhor good or evil in this life, but in as much as it unites or separates thee from God, who is thy true and only End. This indifferency was well known unto David, as he is explicated by St. Austin in that Psalm, which he entitles and dedicates Unto the End, where he considers himself as created by God for so high an End as to serve and enjoy him. upon which supposition he utters this Sentence; As are his darkness, so is his light; 
Psal. 138.  because we are no more to incline our affections to the lustre and splendour of this life, than to the obscurity, ignominy, and afflictions; no more to the light and prosperity, than to the darkness and adversity of it; and therefore the holy Father speaks in this manner; In this night, In this mortality of humane life men enjoy both light and darkness. Light is prosperity, and darkness adversity. But when Christ our Saviour shall come and inhabit the Soul by Faith, and shall promise another light, and shall inspire and endow man with patience, and shall so move him as not to be delighted with prosperity, nor dejected with adversity, The faithful man shall then begin to use this world with indifferency, and shall not be puffed up, when things succeed happily, nor broken and dejected, when they fall out crossly, but shall bless God in all conditions, Whether he abound or want, Whether he be sick or in health, and shall be ever ready to sing this Song: I will bless the Lord at all times; his praise shall be ever in my mouth.  
Another condition of the Medium, which is either the same that we have spoken of, or united unto it, is, That we are not to enjoy the Medium, but only to use it: For in enjoying the Soul rests and contents itself, which is proper to the End; but in the use it aims at the attaining something further, which is proper to the Medium. We are therefore not to seek after any creature, but in as much as it may be a Means to conduce to our End, which is the Creator; and he, who seeks after things temporal for themselves, does no less an injury unto God, than to change basely his End, leaving the Eternal for the Temporal, and the Creator for the Creature, and becomes so much a Sot and a Fool, as he mistakes his true End, and makes the Medium his End, and submits himself to a vile Creature. From whence may be understood that difference betwixt things, which is noted by St. Austin and Divines, that somethings are to be enjoyed, and others only made use of. We are only to enjoy the Eternal, and use the Temporal only so far as may help to save us, and no further. For, as the same Saint saith, The vicious life of man is no other, than that which he uses ill, and that which he enjoys ill; and to the contrary the holy and laudable life of the good is that which uses this World aright, and enjoys God aright. From hence also may be resolved that doubt amongst the ancient Philosophers, Which are the true goods, which Controversy was also on foot amongst the faithful in David's time. Wherefore he demands in one of his Psalms; Quis ostendit nobis bona? Who will show us the good things? This doubt is resolved, and an answer is given to the question: That those are the Goods, which unite us unto God, and those the only Evil, which separate us from him. Whereupon St. Austin says; 
Aug. in Psalm. 138.  We now know no other evil than to offend God, and not to obtain what he hath promised: neither know we other good, than to please him, and attain unto what he hath promised. What have we then to say unto the goods and evils of this life, but to be indifferent unto either? because being now drawn forth from the womb of our Mother Babylon, esteeming them as indifferent, we say, Such is his darkness, as is his light; neither doth the prosperity of this life make us happy, nor the adversity miserable. Socrates' said, that the chiefest wisdom was to distinguish good from evil. And Seneca knew no better rule to distinguish them, than by their end; and therefore says: When thou wouldst know what thou hast to desire, 
Sen. Ep. 71.  and what to fly, look upon the chief good, and the end of thy whole life; for unto that all which we do is to relate; And so according to what we have said concludes, that only to be good, which is virtuous, and all other goods false and adulterate. Thou art eternally so enjoy thy Creator. Content thyself with this hope, and place not thy joy in the Creature, which is only lawful for thee to use.   

§. 5.  
But we are much to consider, that the most excellent use of the Creatures for the attaining unto the Creator is the contempt of them. God would have it so easy for thee to obtain thy End, that thou couldst not miss the means, since even the want of all things may further thee. Let no man therefore complain of the necessities of life, since, though all things fail him, the means of his salvation will not fail him; for even that want may be a means to obtain it. If thou shalt therefore fall into such a poverty, as thou hast nothing to sustain thee, if it conduce to thy salvation, think thyself the happiest man in the world, and embrace it with a hundred hands; for as all things, which hinder us from our end, are to be contemned, so whatsoever helps us to the obtaining of it, (although it be grief, pain, or death itself,) is to be esteemed above all value. So great a matter it is to be a means of thy salvation, that Christ our Lord, who is the beginning and end of all things, disdained it not himself: incarnating, dying, and remaining for that end in the most blessed Sacrament of his Body and Blood. And if it cost the Son of God so dear to be a means of thy salvation, do not thou stick at any thing (how horrible soever it appear to humane nature) that may advance and secure it, but esteem it as a Paradise, though it be infamy, shame, or dishonour.  
Thou travelest towards Heaven; that's the end of thy journey. Make thy voyage secure, whatsoever it cost thee. He who goes for the Indies, if he may embark bark in a strong and well-rigged Vessel, will not make choice of that which is rotten and wormeaten. Take the certainest way for Heaven; and believe me, there is none more ready, then that of the Cross of Christ, his Humility, and Mortification. In all things thou desirest still the best for thyself. Know there is nothing better, or more imports thee than a good life. Make it then a good one: and content not thyself with this which thou now livest, if thou canst make it better; and no way more ready & available to improve it, than by imitating the life of thy Redeemer, to despise all that is Temporal. This is the most proper and certain way of obtaining the Eternal, whereunto thou art to aspire, and for which thou were born. Have still thy end before thine eyes; for thou errest so often as thou dost not behold it, and canst not err without great danger. 
St. Greg. Isid. Clar.  Many compare this life unto a high and narrow Bridge, so narrow that it is scarce broad enough for our feet: and if we fall, we precipitate into a filthy Lake, where. Serpents and Dragons wait to devour us, And who being to pass such a Bridge in an obscure and dark night, having no other guide to direct him but a little light placed in the end of the Bridge, durst for one instant remove his eyes from it? In the like condition are we. This life is a strait Bridge, over which we are to pass in the night and darkness of this world. We cannot come off safely in this dangerous passage without still looking at our end, and at that divine light, which enlightens our Souls. Let not our eyes wander from it, lest we fall into that Gulf, and perish for all eternity. This perdition David signified in the Title, which he gave unto his 13. Psalms, which he calls For the End, where he says, That those who look not upon God as their utmost End, making no more account of him than if he were not, That such became abominable and corrupted in their intentions: That there was not one amongst them, who did well: That all became vain and unprofitable, and failed in their thoughts, words, and actions: That their mouths were as pestilential as an open sepulchre, which none could endure for the stench of worms and corruption: That the poison of Asps was in their lips, and deceit and bitterness in their mouths: That all their ways were wickedness, and That therefore their feet ran swiftly to shed blood: That their hearts were full of fearful imaginations, and That they trembled where there was nothing to fear; finally, That all their courses were nothing but ruin, and unhappiness: That they did not invoke and pray unto the Lord: That they knew not the ways of peace: That the fear of God was not before their eyes. All this, which David deciphers, happened, as he saith, unto this wicked people, because they had not God in their hearts, nor did propose him as the end of their actions. And truly from this defect springs all that is evil. For without God there is neither quiet, peace, nor virtue; for true peace consists in seeking nothing but God, and for God. In this consists the liberty of the sons of God, the contempt of the World, the tranquillity of the Mind, and the conformity with the Will of God. And most certainly the foundation of all virtue is to know that we are born for nothing but the service of God; and so forget it, as the wicked do, is (as David says) a certain kind of Atheism, making us live, as if there were no God, in looseness of manners without prayer, and without the quiet and repose of the Soul. To these three heads the Prophet reduces the disorders of those, who think not of their chief End, nor remember that there is a God. And therefore he, who to the contrary shall still fix his thoughts upon that whereunto he is ordained, shall be endued with virtuous Customs, fervour, and frequency of prayer, and possess the quiet and peace of mind. For as the Iron touched by the Loadstone rests not until it respect the North, no more shall a heart ever enjoy repose but in beholding his chief and utmost End, which is God.    

CAP. II.  
By the knowledge of ourselves way be known the use of things Temporal, and the little esteem we are to wake of them.  
BEfore we pass further I must here advertise you of a point of great importance, which is, that for the right use of things the knowledge of the things themselves, and the end whereunto they serve is not sufficient; but there is required also a knowledge of the person, who is to use them. It is not enough for the wise Physician to know the use and property of his Medicaments, unless he know the nature and quality of his Patient, his temper, strength, age, and other circumstances, that according to them he may administer his Remedies. And therefore having shown the End of man to be eternal, and that the things of this world are only to be used as means to obtain it, we shall now for the completing of this matter speak something of the estate and quality of Man, as he now is, that he may thereby know what use of things temporal is most convenient for him.  
Humane nature is at the present in a far different condition from that wherein it was, when God at first created man, and placed him in Paradise; so as a far different use of things temporal from that, which was then lawful and convenient, is now to be required. And therefore it is fit that we know what Man is, that we may ascertain the use of Man, and the things of Man, which cannot be done without the knowledge of what he is in general, and also that every one know what he himself is in particular. 
Dion Chrys. Orat. 10.  And therefore Dion Chrysostomus is says, He, who knows not Man, cannot make use of Man: and he, who knows not himself, cannot make use of himself, nor of those things which belong unto his nature. But who can arrive unto the knowledge of himself? It is so difficult, that the Devil, although he knew how important this knowledge was to Man, and wished nothing but his ruin and perdition, yet confident in the impossibility of attaining it, and desirous to gain the credit of a wife God among the Grecians, he caused this Command, Know thyself, to be placed in his Temple of Apollo in Delphos. And truly the light of Heaven is necessary for this knowledge; and we guided by what faith dictates, and the Saints inctruct us, will endeavour to say something, whereby we may at least be less ignorant of what we are. It is then to be considered What Man is of himself, and what he is of God, that is, what he hath of himself, and what he hath received from God. What he hath from God must needs be good, since he gave it, from whom can proceed no ill. And if upon this score, because it is good, he hath less ground to humble himself, I am sure he hath none to boast of, since it is wholly the Divine benefit, not having any thing of himself, but what he hath received. Only he may consider, that by the sin of Adam he hath put himself in a worse condition both for soul and body, than when he received them from God. His Soul is now full of ignorance and imbecility to what is good, and subject to a thousand miseries, which it then had not; And his Body, which is now mortal, was then immortal, and free from the corruption of those infirmities, which (as hath been already said) accompany it, until it end in dust, worms, and ashes. But these (although by the perverseness of our nature they are become much worse) yet coming from God are good, and are ah honour and glory in respect; of what he possesses from himself.  
This the Arausican Council declares in two words, that is, We are nothing of ourselves but a Lie and Sin; that is the nothing that we were, and the evil we are. A lie we are: because what is a lie, is not; And from ourselves we have only a not being; for what have we but what God hath given us? take away what we have received, and there remains nothing. This is what is ours: what is more, is our Creators; and therefore we are not to use it according to our own fancy, but his pleasure. Thou art also to consider, that thou oughtest to humble thyself more for being nothing, than for being but dust and ashes. For those are something; and betwixt something and nothing there is no proportion, and, as the Philosophers say, an infinite distance. Thou hast not from thyself so much as a possibility of being; for if God were not God, thou couldst not have been at all. From this consideration thou hast great reason to humble thyself. For to be nothing is a Well without bottom never to be drawn dry: yet this Nothing is far better than what thou art by Sin. Here the most holy Saints have sunk down in amazement, and some unto whom our Lord hath revealed what they are, have been so astonished, as they had certainly died, if they had not been comforted and upheld by the Divine hand. For having sinned thou art as evil as sin itself. Call to mind what we have said of the infinite malice and abomination of sin. All this falls upon him who commits it, With reason therefore did Dion the Philosopher say, That it was most hard to know one's self: because it was most hard to comprehend the malice of sin, which being the chiefest evil becomes in a manner as difficult to be known as the chiefest good: and therefore no better way to find what it is, than to proceed after the same way we do in the knowledge of God.  

§. 2.  
St. Dionysius Areopagita teaches us, that in the knowledge of God we may proceed alter two manners: either by the way of Affirmation, attributing unto God all what is Good and perfect: or by way of Negation, denying unto him all what is good or perfect in the Creatures, as being of a goodness and perfection infinitely above it. In the same manner we are to proceed in the knowledge of Sin, either by Affirmation, in attributing unto it all the ill in all creatures whatsoever, or by Negation, denying it any ill, as being a malice of another kind, horrible and enormous, above all other Evils imaginable. Call together therefore all the evils thou hast seen, heard, or read of; Join all these in one; a mortal sin is worse than all these together. The miseries of Job, stilence in the time of David, the torments of Phalaris, Nero, Dioclesian, and all the Tyrants are fare short of it in malice. Is it as bad, as all those afflictions and miseries, which they suffered, who perished in the Deluge, and those who were burnt alive in Sodom and the neighbouring Towns, and as all they suffered, who were put to the sword in Amalee, and all those that were hungerstarved in the siege of Jerusalem? One only mortal sin goeth far beyond all the aforesaid miseries. All the Plagues, Wars, Sickness, Famines, all, that hath been suffered since the World began, come not near the ill of one sin. Good God how vast is that evil, which is equivalent to so many evils? where shall we find an evil that may equal it? where shall we meet with an end of so much malice? Certainly all the evils, that have been since the World began, or could succeed in a million of Worlds to come, fall short of it. If nothing then upon earth be comparable unto it, let us seek it beneath the earth amongst those eternal evils, which shall never have end. Let us enter Hell, and consider the torments there, which are or have been suffered by Men or Devils even from the least and most unknown of the damned unto Lucifer and Antichrist. Is there any thing there, that may equal, the evil of one sin? No; we shall not there, find it. Reflect, I say again, and mark if thou findest any torment amongst so many miserable creatures, as suffer in Hell, which may parallel the malice of one only mortal sin. There is none to be found. But I'll give thee leave to make a collection of those many torments, which may seem unto thee in reason comparable to a mortal sin, and you shall find that Sin does not only equalise, but exceed the malice of them. Join then together, and put in one heap all the torments that are inflicted upon all damned creatures, Men and Angels, and compare the malice of them all with that one of mortal sin, and you shall find that the malice of sin doth far surpass the malice of all those. That gnashing of teeth, that inconsolable weeping, that burning fire, which penetrates the bowels for all eternity, all that our imagination can frame, reaches not so immense an evil. If we cannot therefore find the depth of the malice of sin by way of Affimation, let us try what may be done by the other way of Negation. But this will also fail us. For the evil of plagues, famine, and death are not it; A mortal sin is more than these. The evils of poverty, dishonour, and torments are not it: It is more than these. The torments of hell are not it; It is above hell and all the pains of it. Think with thyself that all the atoms, which are to be found in the air, all the sands in the sea, all the leaves on the trees, all the grass in the fields, all the stars in the heavens, think, I say, that they are foul and ugly bodies, all most deformed Monsters, and frame to thyself a Monster and ugly Creature, which should be made of all these: will this equalise the foulness of a mortal sin? It is not this ugly Monster, nor this foul deformed Creature: but it is a foulness and ugliness, that doth far surpass all these, and all horrid shapes and figures imaginable. And let not this seem strange unto thee; For not only the evil of a Mortal sin, but even that of a Venial is greater than all the evils of Hell, or the evils within or without it; all  monstrousuess, all the deformity of all things, that are or can be contracted into one, do not equal it; Sin is more than all. And therefore as St. Dionysius said of God, That he was above what was good, or what was fair, because his goodness and beauty were of a superior kind▪ So it may be said of sin; It is neither deformity, abomination, horror, or malice, but is something more than all these.  
Let a sinner therefore know himself, and that he is by sin above all that is ugly, foul, or monstrous. For as he, that hath whiteness, is as white as that which makes him so, so he, that is in sin, is as horrible and ill as sin itself. Let him then reflect whether he is to sink charged with such a guilt, and how much he ought to abhor and loathe himself. Certainly if he should sink into Hell, he would there find no torment worse than himself. If he should return into the Abyss of nothing, he would be there better, then in that Abyss of malice, which is in sin. Let him then reflect whether so unworthy and vile a wretch ought to have the same use of the creatures, as if he were in the state of innocency, and without this blemish of sin. Let him consider if a person so infamous, so abominable as himself ought to use the things of this world for his delight, honour, pomp, and ostentation. The Emperor Marcus Aurelius, Lord of the world, and possessor of the greatest honours it could give him, though a Gentil, yet thought himself so worthy of contempt, that he writes in this manner;" Treat thyself, O soul with ignominy, 
Anton. lib. 2. " and despise thyself; For thou hast no title to honour. It is a prodigious thing, that he, who hath committed a mortal sin, should desire honour and respect: That he should complain of the troubles of this life, and desire to be cherished and made much of: That he, who is the shame and infamy of the world, should gape after glory: That he who is a Traitor to his God, should wish to be honoured and respected. He who hath deserved hell for an eternity, why should he grumble at a short sickness or the necessities of this life, which if he make the right use of, may serve as a means of his salvation? Let him therefore, who hath sinned, know that he is not to make the same use of the creatures, as if he were innocent; he is not to aim at other honour, then that of God; he is not to seek after ease and the Commodities of life, but the security of his salvation: not to thirst after the pleasures of the world, but to perform strict penances for his sins past. O if one knew himself perfectly, with what different eyes would he behold the things of the world? he would look upon them as things not appertaining to him at all; and if he did not despise them, at least he would make no account of them. The Son of God, only because he took upon him the form of a sinner, would not use the goods of this life, but rather embraced all that was troublesome, painful, and bitter in it. why should he then, who is really and in substance a sinner, seek honours and delights? Let him know the means of his salvation, since Christ himself hath taught them, to wit, Penance, Mortification, and the Cross. If Christ, because he bore the sins of others, used not temporal goods and the Commodities of life, why should man, who is loaden with his own sins, complain he wants the pleasures and conveniences of it? Why should he gape after the goods of the earth, who is infected with a greater evil then that of hell? The admirable man, blessed Francis Borgia, the great despiser of himself and the world, out of this consideration was most content in the tribulations and want of all things temporal: and the least comfort in his greatest necessities seemed too much for him. All men wondered to see him so poor, and the incommodities he suffered in his travail, when he visited the Colleges of the Society in Spain. Amongst the rest a certain Gentleman, amazed at his great pains and sufferance, said unto him, Father how is it possible, that having been so great a Lord you can endure the troubles and inconveniences of the ways? To whom the servant of God answered; Sir, do not pity me; for I always send before me a Harbinger, who provides plentifully for all things necessary. This Harbinger was the Knowledge of himself, which in his greatest necessities made what he had appear too plentiful.   

§ 3.  
Besides this, he who hath sinned aught to Consider, that he hath need of God's holy hand to draw him out of that misery, or, if he be already by repentance freed, to preserve him from falling again into it; That the means to obtain this is not the pride of the world, the riches of the earth, or the pleasures of the flesh, but fasting, sackcloth, humiliation and penance. Let him remember that of himself he is nothing, and to that nothing hath added sin; that being nothing he can do nothing that is good: and that by sin he hath disobliged him, who only could assist him in doing good. Man is of himself nothing but a Lie, and Sin, two horrid and profound Abysses. Let him imitate David who said, I cried unto thee, O Lord, from the deeps: what other deeps, than those two of Nothing and of Sin, which have no bottom? Let him then, who hath once offended his Creator, know himself, and where he remains. Let him pray, sigh, and cry from his nothing, and from the depth of his misery, that he may be heard of his God. And certainly for him, who is in the condition of a penitent and to demand mercy, it is not seemly to use superfluities, to employ himself in vanities, to take delight in the world, enjoy the Creatures, and seek after greatness. And although it were lawful in the integrity of nature, when man was free from the corruption of sin, to use the Creatures with more liberty, yet being now fallen, it is no ways tolerable: but let him look upon himself as one guilty, who hath offended his God, and is in fine a miserable man.  
The Philosophers, who considered nature, not as it was by sin, but as it ought to be in itself, measured there virtues by that rule, and therefore knew not the virtue of humility, nor used that of penance; And the virtues of Magnanimity, Constancy, and Magnificence they extended so far, that many actions, which the Stoics and Peripatetics called virtuous, may be esteemed vicious. But the horribleness of sin and the weakness of humane nature being now discovered, the estate of things is changed, and humility ought still to reign both in our souls and bodies: and many acts of other virtues esteemed by them are to be corrected. We are to choose different Mediums for the advancing our End from those of the Philosophers, both because the ends we aim at are not the same, and because we know ourselves to be in a far other condition than they imagined. The End proposed by the Philosophers was merely natural, to wit, the Happiness and felicity of this life. The estate of humane nature they conceived to be free, and uncontaminated by sin, and that it had suffcient force of itself to do good. In all this they were deceived; and it is not therefore strange, if for the obtaining of their ends they taught ways distinct from those of Christians, who know their end to be supernatural, to wit, the happiness not of this, but of the other life: who know also their estate of nature not to be free and entire as it was at first, but corrupted and defaced by sin, and that of itself it hath neither force, nor efficacy to execute any thing that is good, unless assisted by the grace and mercy of God. It is therefore no marvel, if Chrisitians, who know themselves, their end, and condition, make use of such Vetues and Mediums as the Philosophers knew not. Neither is it much that the Philosophers took some virtuous acts for vices, since they mistook many vices for virtues. Aristotle the Prince of natural and moral Philosophers knew not Humility, voluntary Poverty, and Penance to be virtues, but rather condemned the last to be a kind of insensibility, and one of those vices contrary to the virtue. of temperance. The Stoics also held Pity and Commiseration for a vice. But since the Gospel of Christ these are become the most necessary and recommended virtues, and the most apt and ready means for the obtaining of our salvation. These three virtues, in which consists the contempt of all things temporal, Aristotle knew not, because he knew not himself. By Humility Honours are despised, by Poverty Riches, and by Penance the Pleasures and Regaloes of the world. And therefore he who will make the right and profitable use of things temporal for the gaining of eternity, must as a sinner humble himself, and do penance, must not employ, himself and the time of his life in gathering and heaping up riches, which are so fare from being goods, that to innumerable persons they have shut up the gates of the true and real goods, which are only the eternal, unto which we are wholly to aspire, not trusting in our own forces, but in the mercy and passion of Jesus Christ.    

CAP. III.  
The value of goods eternal is made apparent unto us by the Incarnation of the Son of God.  
BUt above all which hath been said the incomparable difference betwixt things Temporal and Eternal is made most apparent unto us by the Incarnation and passion of Jesus Christ. The gaining of eternity is a matter of so high concernment, that the Son of God, to the end we might obtain it. was incarnate and made man; and that we might despise things temporal is also of so great importance, that for it it was convenient that Christ our Redeemer should suffer and die. I know not what can raise in us a higher conception of the greatness of the one, and baseness of the other, than these high and stupendious acts of God Almighty. And therefore (though briefly) we will say something of them both, beginning with that admirable and great mystery of the Incarnation.  
Great is all that which is eternal, and so much imports us, that rather than we should lose it God wrought a work of that height and love as amazed the Angels. In which we will consider four things: The greatness of the work, The manner of putting it in execution, The evils from which it frees us, and The good we gain by it. For the first, which is the Greatness of the work, we are to suppose the estate of man, as he then stood; which was the most miserable, infamous, and wretched condition that could be imagined. He was become a slave so the Devil, polluted with sin, condemned unto eternal punishment, enemy to God, and without hope of remedy. For even the highest Seraphins could not imagine, that without prejudice to the Justice of God it was possible for man to be redeemed from that miserable and ignominious estate. For although all the men in the world should suffer a thousand deaths, and all the orders of holy Angels in heaven should offer themselves in sacrifice, and should suffer eternal torments in hell, all would not satisfy for one mortal sin. All created remedies were then impossible; and although God should have created some more excellent and holy creature than the most high Seraphins, yet that and they were insufficient to appease the divine justice incensed against man. what remedy then, where none was to be had? what hope, when all was despair? Certainly from what was, or could be created it was impossible: and from the Creator it was not known to be possible; and if it was known to be possible, who could hope that the offended party tie should satisfy for the offence committed against himself? that the Creditor should pay what the debtor ought? What hope then of remedy, when all hope failed both from Heaven and Earth? The only remedy, and that only known to God, was, that God without prejudice to his justice might cover man with his mercy: but that much to the cost of God himself, and the greatest work, whereunto his power and wisdom could extend. But who could think he would employ so great a work for his Enemy? that he would let up the rest of his omnipotency for him, who was a Traitor to his Lord? Only this way remained, for God to make himself man, the most great and stupendious work possible or imaginable. But who could believe this should be done for man, so vile a creature, made of a little earth, and of so small importance to God? This was a work to be reserved for God himself, if his own divinity, life, or salvation (if it were possible) should come in question; let it be lawful to speak in this manner, to express in some sort that, which is inexplicable, and to set forth this ineffable mystery, and the incomprehenssible goodness of God. But to do this for the life of a Traitor, for the salvation of a Faith-breaker, to advance an Enemy, who could once hope or dare to imagine it? If man for the service of God had, as a faithful servant, hazarded his person, and run himself into that miserable and sad condition, it might have been presumed, that God out of his goodness and acknowledgement, would have stretched his power for his freedom; but that man having robbed God of his honour, contemned him, and made himself equal unto him, and that God should yet after all this humble himself for him, debase himself so low as to be made man, and that for his Enemy, who could think it? But such is the goodness of God that he overcame our hopes with his benefits, and did that for us, which would have only sufficed for himself, and for himself he could have done no more. O most stupendious love of God O most immense charity of our Creator, who so much loved man, that he stuck not to do what he could for him! O ineffable goodness, which would discharge that debt, which his enemy owed! O divine nobleness, that would so much to his own cost do good to man, from whom he had received so much evil! To redeem man, though it had cost him nothing, had been much; but at so great a rate, who could imagine it? But the thoughts of God are far different from those of men.  

§. 2.  
Let us now look upon the Greatness of this work: great after divers manners; great by the humbling of God so much below himself, great in itself, so great, as the omnipotent power of God could work no greater. Here the divine Attributes were drawn dry. For (as St. Austin says) neither God could do a greater work, nor knew how to determine it better: there was found the bottom of the whole omnipotency of God: for a greater work than this was neither possible nor imaginable. For as nothing greater than God is possible, so no work can possibly be greater than that, whereby man is made God. See then what thou owest him for this excess of favour, that being his Enemy he did all for thee, that his omnipotency could, that his wisdom knew, or his divine goodness and love could will. All his Attributes thy Creator employed for thy good; employ thou all thy powers in his service. God did all he could for thee; do thou all thou canst for him. He wrought the work of thy redemption with all his forces and omnipotency; do thou then with all thy power and forces observe his divine will and pleasure, loving and serving him in all things. Seest thou not here his infinite love and goodness made apparent and laid down before thine eyes? dost thou yet doubt to love him with all thy powers and faculties, who loved thee with all his omnipotency? See what a love was this, when he did that for thee being his enemy, greater than which he could not do for his friend: nor for himself, if his own glory were at stake. Seest thou not clearly his infinite goodness, that overcame so infinite a malice, man not being able to do a work against God of so stupendious wickedness, but God would do a work for man of a more stupendious goodness, not suffering his divine goodness to be overcome by humane malice. God saw that man did a work so profoundly evil, that there could not possible be a worse: for nothing can be so bad as mortal sin. He therefore determined to do a work so infinitely good, that in goodness it was impossible to be a better; and this for accursed Thee. what sayest thou to it? What sayest thou to such an overflowing bounty, To such an excess of love? Hear what the Apostle says. If thy Enemy be a hungered, 
Ad Roman. 11.  feed him; if he be thirsty, give him to drinks so shalt thou heap coals of fire up in his head▪ Be mt overcome with evil, but overcome evil with good. This did thy Creator fully perform with thee although his enemy. Yield thyself then vanquished, and blush that thou lovest him not better than the Angels. Thy estate was not only necessitated by hunger and thirst, but thou wast plunged into eternal misery, and want of all things that were good, deprived of glory and eternal happiness. If then to bestow a bit of bread, or a Cup of water upon a necessitated enemy be sufficient to call colour into his face, and are as coals to inflame him in love and charity: What is it for God to have communicated his Divinity unto man, and to have given his life for him, when he was his Enemy? How comes not this to make us blush for shame, and set us afire in his divine love? These benefits are not to be coals, but flames, which ought to kindle in us the fire of true love and charity. Give thyself then for overcome, and love that divine goodness, which for thee being the worst of all his Creatures did the best work of his omnipotency. O nobleness of God Almighty, O divine sense of honour, (that I may so speak)! Man had overcome all works good or bad in malice; but such was the immense goodness of God, that he would not suffer man to do a work so excessive in evil, but he would do a work for the salvation of traitorous and false man more excessive in good. Wherefore O Lord didst thou not this, when the Angels sinned, who were better than man? What goodness is this, that thou forbearest so fowl a sinner? Is it perhaps that thy work might appear the greater? wouldst thou expect until man had first set up his rest in impudence and malice, that thou mightest then set up thy rest in mercy and goodness? Who sees not here, O Lord, the infinitness of thy love, and the immenseness of thy bounty?  
After all manners this excellent work proclaims thy excess of bounty, because it is after all manners infinitely good, and opens as many parts to the understanding of our souls to adore and admire thee. For this work is not only infinitely good in substance, but in each particular circumstance. In itself it is infinitely good. For no work can be better than that which makes man so good, as it makes him God. It is good because by it the Divinity is communicated unto a creature, and, which is more, unto the lowest, and most vile of those who are capable of reason. For as it is the property of what is good to be comunicative, so here we see the infinite goodness of God, who wholly, and all what he is issues forth of himself, and is communicated unto man. Who is not amazed, that the same Divinity, which the eternal Father communicates unto the eternal Word, who is God as he is, should after an admirable manner be communicated unto human nature, which was enemy unto him? O Sea of divine goodness, that thus pourest forth thyself to do good without regarding unto whom! O Ocean of bounty, that thus overflowest in benefits even towards thine enemies! This work is likewise infinitely good, because with goodness it overcoms an infinitely malice, and frees him, who was so evil, that he deserved an infinite punishment. It is infinitely good, because it sets forth God with an infinite desire to pardon, and do good even unto the greatest Traitor, and who least deserved it. It shows him also infinitely good and complete in all virtue and perfection, that rather than to fail the least jot in his Justice, he would take upon him that which was due unto a most unjust and accursed offender, and humbled himself unto death, that he, who was condemned to die, should not perish eternally. I know not any thing; that can set forth God as a more exact and perfect pattern of all virtue, than a work of so much Justice and Mercy. Who would not be amazed at the goodness and piety of a great Emperor, who having a desire to pardon a notorious Traitor, should rather, then abate one jot of his inflexible justice, take upon him the habit and shape of that Traitor, and die publiqnely in the market place, that the offender might be spared? This did God, taking upon him the form of a Servant, and dying upon the Cross to free condemned man from eternal death. O God every way most perfect and good, which art so scrupulous in thy justice, and so indulgent in thy mercy: rigorous with thyself, that thou mightest be merciful with us. O God infinitely good, infinitely holy, infinitely exact and perfect in all/ Let the Angels praise thee for all thy perfections, since all are transcendent and infinitely good.   

§. 3.  
To this maybe added the excellent Manner, by which a work every way so excellently good was performed, and with what love and desire of thy benefit it was wrought. From whence could a work of so much goodness issue, but from a furnace of love in the divine breast? And if by the effect we may know the cause, that love, which made God resolve upon a work so admirable strange and high, could not be other then immense in itself; for since the work was infinitely good, it could not proceed but from an infinite love: nor that love but from an infinite being. Besides this, it was a great prerogative and honour to humane nature, that God should rather make himself a man than an Angel. With being an Angel he might have freed Man, and honoured the Angels, communicated his divine goodness unto the Creatures, and done a work of infinite bounty and favour. This notwithstanding, he was so passionate a lover of man, and, (if I may so say) so fond of humane nature, that he would not only oblige man by redeeming him. but in the manner of his redemption; he would not only that Man should be redeemed, but that he should be redeemed by a Man, and so would not only give the remedy, but confer also the honour upon our nature. Neither was he content in honouring man more than Angels, but would redeem him, and not the Angels. This was a demonstration of his affection unto Man beyond all expression, that not pardoning the Angels, who were of a more excellent and supreme being then ours, he yet took pity of us, and not of them, and would do that for us, which he did not for them. Unto this add, that, when Man sinned, and the whole stock of mankind was ruined, there remained no just man to commiserate and intercede for him. But when the Angels fell, there remained thousands rightious, who might pity those of their own nature, and be sensible of their loss; and yet he would do this for Man and not for Angels. The time also, when this great work of mercy was put in execution, shows not a little the sweetness of God Almighty to our nature. It was in a time, when mankind was most forgetful of God: when men strove to make themselves adored for Gods, and those, who could not attain unto it themselves, adored other men worse than devils. Then did God think of making himself Man, and for Man, who would make himself God. This was a love indeed, to do most for us then, when we most offended him.  
But let us see what good we received by this great work. Certainly if we had received no good at all, it was much to free us from those evils, whereunto we were plunged: to deliver us from the ignominy of Sin, from the slavery of the Devil, and from the horror of Hell. To free us from these evils without any other benefit might be held an infinite good. And though there had been no evils to be freed from, nor goods to be bestowed upon us, yet the honour, which our nature received in having God to become one of us, was an incomparable blessing. But joining to this honour our deliverance from those horrid and desperate evils, what happiness may be compared to ours? Justin writes that Alexander the Great beholding Lysimachus wounded in the head, and that he lost much blood, took his Diadem, and bound it about his temples to stay his bleeding. This was a great favour from so mighty a Prince, as well in the care he took of him, as in the manner, taking the Ensign of Majesty from his own head, and giving it to his vassal. But Lysimachus had not injuried Alexander: he had served him faithfully, and received that wound in his quarrel. Neither did Alexander give him his Diadem for ever, but suffered him only to wear it upon that present occasion. But the mortal wound of sin was not received by man in defence of God, or in his quarrel, but in rebellion against him. Yet God vouchsafes to cure the Traitor, honours him with his own Diadem, which is his Divinity, communicating it upon him, not for a short space, and then to take it from him, but bestowing it upon him for all eternity. What a bounty is this unto an enemy, that in freeing him from such a misery, crowns him with so great happiness?  
But if to all this we shall add those other blessings, which he bestows▪ upon us, giving us his grace, adopting us the Sons of God, and making us Heirs of heaven, how infinitely will our obligations increase, since we are not only freed from so great evils, but enriched with unspeakable benefits, and our nature honoured by his favours above that of Angels? All is marvelous, all is great, all is transcendent in this unspeakable goodness. The work itself is transcendent, the manner and love, by which it was performed, is transcendent. The evils, from which it frees us, are eternal: the rewards, which it prepares for us, are eternal; whose greatness though it were not otherwise to be known, might in this sufficiently appear, that to free us from so many evils, and crown us with so many goods, it was necessary that he who was eternal, should make himself temporal, and should execute this great and stupendious work so much to his own loss.    

CAP. IU.  
The baseness of Temporal goods may likewise appear by the Passion and Death of Christ Jesus.  
THe greatness of eternal goods and evils is by the Incarnation of the Son of God made more apparent unto us then the Sun beams; since for the freeing us from the one, and gaining for us the other, it was necessary so great a work should be performed, and that God judged not his whole omnipotency ill employed, that man might gain eternity. Yet doth not this great work so forcibly demonstrate unto us the baseness of things temporal, and the contempt which is due unto them, as the Passion and Death of the Son of God, which was another work of his love, an other excess of his affection, another tenderness of our Creator, and a most high expression of his good will towards us: wherein we shall see how worthy to be despised are all the goods of the Earth, since to the end we might contemn them, the Son of God would not only deprive himself of them, but to the contrary embraced all the evils and incommodities this life was capable of. Behold then how the Saviour of the world disesteemed temporal things, since he calls the best of them, and those, which men most covet, but thorns; and to the contrary that, which the world most hates and abhors, he qualifies with the name of blessings, favouring so much the Poor, who want all things, that he calls them, blessed, and says, Of them is the Kingdom of heaven. And of the Rich, who enjoy the goods of the earth, he says, It is harder for them to enter into heaven, then for a Camel to pass the eye of a needle. And to persuade us yet more, he not only in words but in actions chose the afflictions, and despised the prosperity of this life; and to that end would suffer in all things as much as could be suffered. In honour, by being reputed infamous: In riches by being despoiled of all even to his proper garments; In his pleasures, by being a spectacle of sorrow, and afflicted in each particular part of his most sacred body. This we ought to consider seriously, that we may imitate him in that contempt of all things temporal, which he principally expressed in his bitter death and passion. This he would have us still to keep in memory, as conducing much to our spiritual profit, as an example which he left us, and as a testimony of the love he bore us, leaving his life for us, and dying for us a public death full of so many deaths and torments. 
Zcnophon in Cyro lib. 3.  Tigranes' King of Armenia, together with his Queen, being prisoners unto Cyrus, and one day admitted to dine with him, Cyrus demanded of Tigranes, What he would give for the liberty of his wife; to whom Tigranes answered, That he would not only give his Kingdom, but his life and blood. The woman not long after requited this expression of her husband. For being both restored to their former condition, One demanded of the Queen, What she thought of the Majesty and Greatness of Cyrus; to whom she answered; Certainly I thought not on him, nor fixed mine eyes on any but him, who valued me so much, as he doubted not to give his life for my ransom. If this Lady were so grateful only for the expression of her husband's affections, that she looked upon nothing but him, and neither admired nor desired the greatness of the Persians, What ought the Spouse of Christ to do, who not only sees the love and affection of the King of Heaven, but his deeds: not his willingness to die, but his actual dying a most horrid and cruel death for her ransom and redemption? Certainly she ought not to place her eyes or thoughts upon any thing but Christ crucified for her. Sabinus also extols the loyalty and love of Ulysses to his Wife Penelope, in regard that Circe and Calypso promising him immortality upon condition that he should forget Penelope, and remain with them, he utterly refused it, not to be wanting to the love and affection he owed unto his Spouse, who did also repay it him with great love and affection. Let a Soul consider what great love and duty it owes to its Spouse Christ Jesus, who being immortal, did not only become mortal, but died also a most ignominious death. Let us consider whether it be reasonable it should forget such an excessive love, and whether it be fit it should ever be not remembering the same, and not thankful for all eternity, hazarding to lose the fruits of the passion of its Redeemer and Spouse Christ Jesus. Upon this let thy Soul meditate day and night; and the spiritual benefits, which she will reap from thence, will be innumerable. Albertus Magnus used to say, 
Lud. de Ponte P. 4. in introduc.  That the Soul profited more by one holy thought of the Passion of Christ, than by reciting every day the whole Psalter, by fasting all the year in bread and water, or chastizing the Body even to the effusion of blood. One day amongst others when Christ appeared unto St. Gertrude to confirm her in that devotion she had to his Passion, he said unto her: behold Daughter, if in a few hours, which I hung upon the Cross, I so ennobled it, that the whole world hath ever since had it in reverence, how shall I exalt that Soul in whose heart and memory I have continued many years? Certainly it cannot be expressed, what favour devout Souls obtain from Heaven in thinking often upon God, and those pains, by which he gained tor us eternal blessings, and taught us to despise things temporal and transitory.  
But that we may yet reap more profit by the holy remembrance of our Saviour's passion, we are to consider, that Christ took upon him all our sins: and being to satisfy the Father for them, would do it by the way of suffering; for which it was convenient that there should be a proportion betwixt the greatness of his pains and the greatness of our sins. And certainly as our sins were without bound or limit, so the pains of his torments were above all comparison: showing us by the greatness of those injuries, he received in his passion, the greatness of those injuries, we did unto God by our inordinate pleasures. We may also gather by the greatness of those pains and torments, which were inflicted upon him by the Jews and Hangmen, the greatness of those which he inflicted upon himself; for certainly those pains, which he took upon himself, were not inferior to those he received from others. But who can explicate the pains, which our Saviour wounded by the grief he conceived at our offences took upon himself? For such is the malice of a mortal sin, that, if we did but know it as it is, our hearts would burst with grief, and we could not suffer it and live; and therefore many have been known to die suddenly by the violent apprehension of their sins. 
Vincent. Serm. 6. Post invocavit. Fra. Francisco. Diego. en la Hist. de la Prov. de Arragon l. 2. c. 6.  St. Vincentius Ferrerius writes of a certain light woman, who going to a Sermon decked and adorned in all bravery, when she heard the Preacher with great zeal and fervour set out the heinousness of the sin of dishonesty, she with mere grief and compunction fell dead in the place; and a voice was heard: she was in heaven. The same St. Vincent being in Zamora, two condemned persons were led forth to be burnt for their filthiness. The Saint drawing near to them so laid open the deformity of their sin, that they both died of grief in the way to execution. Another time the same Saint hearing the Confession of an incestuous person, so moved him to contrition, that he died at his feet. If then the grievousness of sin be so great, as the grief of it brings death upon them who truly apprehend it, what shall we think of the grief of Christ, who perfectly knew the heinousness of sin, and took upon him all the sins of the world, and grieved for every one of them, as if he himself had committed it? Who can declare or imagine the grievousness of his resentment, when he saw his Father (whose honour he desired and endeavourd even from his very bowels) to be injured after so many and so horrid manners? 
Suar. in 3. p. to. 2. disput. 33 sec. 2.  Grave Divines affirm that the grief, which Christ suffered for sins of men, was more vehement and intense, than all other griefs, what objects soever they have, or can have by ordinary power either in Man or Angels; which afflictions he suffered all his life: and therefore one of the Psalms says; he was in labours from his youth; which another Lection reads; He was agonizing and exhaling his soul. It was a custom among the Jews, that hearing any to blaspheme or injure God, they tore their garments in sign of grief. What grief did then the Son of God endure for all the blasphemies, and injuries committed by the whole world against his Eternal Father? Certainly he tore not his Garments, but his Body, and poured forth his sacred blood at a thousand fountains before he subjected it to the power of his Enemies, revenging the sins against his Father upon his own person, and tormenting himself for our sins before he was tormented by others. Such was the zeal of the glory of God, which burned in his breast, that he would not pardon himself, to the end he might obtain pardon for Man. If the zeal of Phinees was so great, that beholding two persons commit a sin he could not contain himself from revenging it even with their deaths; If that of Elias took away the lives of so many false Prophets, and Moses purpled his hands in the blond of his People, causing so many thousands of them to be slain: What shall be the zeal of Christ at the sight of the sins of all the world? how vehement his desire, that God should be revenged? and since he would revenge them upon himself, what grief and anguish did he endure for the sins of the whole world? Certainly no words can possibly express it. But not contented with those he gave himself, he would subject himself also to those which he received from others, which certainly were no small ones, but such as were proportionable to his burning zeal, and therefore beyond utterance painful and severe. Yet those, though rigorous and great, were short of that interior grief, which he took upon himself; for those were inflicted by the rage and madness of the Jews, but these by his own zeal and charity; and therefore by how much his love was greater than the hatred and malice of his enemies, by so much greater was the grief of his heart than that of his senses, and than those pains which he suffered in his sacred body. But it is fit we should also often reflect upon the greatness of those, which were more particularly suffered for our Example, that we may thence learn to despise the goods of the earth, which we see charged with so many evils, and avoid all sorts of sins, since our sweet Saviour took their punishments upon himself in so high a degree.  

§. 2.  
Wherefore as Christ our Redeemer suffered for the sin of Man, which is totally evil in itself and all the Circumstances, as we have already discoursed: so his Passion was likewise every way most grievous and painful, as we shall perceive in observing those seven Circumstances noted by Tully. First behold, who it is that suffers. It is he who deserves it least: He who is Innocency itself: He who is a Person as holy, as the holy Spirit of God: He who is the offended Party; yet suffers for the offender: He who is Lord of all: He whom the Seraphins acknowledge and adore: He who hath done innumerable benefits for his very enemies: Our Father, who created us and made us of nothing: A man most delicate for the vivacity of his spirits, and the perfection of his temper. All this must needs augment his grief, as being a Person of such Worth and innocence, as he deserved it least, and of so temperate and perfect a complexion, as he felt it most. This Circumstance of the Person, who suffered, is recommended to our consideration by the Apostle, when he says; 
Heb. 12.  Think upon him, who sustained such contradiction from sinners against himself; For he it is, who now sits at the right hand of the Father, who died betwixt two Thiefs. Think who it is, that was allowed no place on earth, but hung upon a tree in the air; It is He, who is to judge the living and the dead. Think who it is, who suffered upon the Cross; it is He, who is life eternal. Think who it is, who permitted himself to be apprehended, whipped, crucified; it is He who made the earth to tremble, and caused fire to issue out of the Sanctuary, and consume those who obeyed not his holy Word and Law.  
The second Circumstance is, what it was he suffered. Certainly more than was ever suffered by man; injuries, affronts, inhuman and cruel torments: He suffered suitably to his infinite charity, and that burning thirst he had to suffer for Man. So excessive were his pains, that the Rocks clove in sunder in their presence, the Mountains sunk, the Elements trembled, the Heavens clothed themselves in mourning, the Sun and Moon were darkened, and the Angels of Peace wept. So great they were, that the very apprehension of them made the Son of God sweat drops of blood; so many in number, that it is held to by known by Revelation they were ninety seven thousand three hundred and five. And afterwards in time of his Passion he shed from his sacred eyes, as Peter Calentinus writes, to the number of seaventy two thousand two hundred drops of tears, and this for our sins, begging the Eternal Father for pardon and our salvation. 
In lib. inscrip. Faustus annus. Joan. Aquilan. Serm. de Pass. Lansperg. hom. 50. de Pass. Ansel. in Spec. Evan. Ser. 1. c. 22. Vide Joan. Burg. p. 2. c. 7. & p. 3. c. 3.  The lashes he received from those barbarous fellows passed in number five thousand. Some say, it was revealed to St. Bernard how they amounted to six thousand six hundred seaventy six. Lanspergius writes, that a Servant of God understood from Heaven, that if one for the space of twenty years should every day say an hundred times the Lords prayer in reverence of those stripes our Saviour received, for every drop or blood would correspond one prayer; and according to this account those drops amount to seven hundred and thirty thousand five hundred. He that has numbered the multitude of the stars, the sands of the sea, the drops of rain, might well keep an account, and give also an exact knowledge of the aforesaid numbers, as being of more account. The Crown of thorns was another Torment very cruel, of which St. Anselm says, that it pierced his venerable head with a thousand wounds. And who can express the unspeakable torment of hanging upon the Cross, the whole weight of his body sustained by his nailed hands and feet? Finally so strange and horrible were his pains, that not only to suffer them, but even to imagine them, caused St. Lidwine to bewail them even with tears of blood. 
Cantip. l. 1. c. 25.  Cantipratensis writes of a devout person, who died of mere sorrow upon consideration of the excessive torments undergone by the Son of God. And there is no doubt, but the blessed Virgin, if it had not been for her eminent constancy, fortified by divine grace, 
Albert. Mag. super Mis.  as Albertus Magnus said, had expired in those tears of blood she poured forth at the foot of the Cross. And if the sword of grief, which pierced the heart of the Mother, was so sharp, what was the grief of the Son? The passion of torments was in him real, in her but for his sake; and certainly the compassion he had of us sinners was greater than the compassion she could have of him. And if the grief of the Virgin was so terrible, 
Ansel. de Excess. Virg.  that, as St. Anselme says, all the torments endured by all bodies whatsoever were in comparison of it little or nothing: And St. Bernard thinks that her pains were a thousand times double to those of Childbirth: 
Bernard. de lament. Virg. Bernardin. Ser. 61. art. 3. ca 2.  And Sr. Bernardine exceeding all this is confidedent, that if the grief of the Virgin were divided amongst all the creatures that can suffer, all would suddenly die as uncapable of it: If such then and so great were the pains of the Virgin, what shall be said of those which Christ suffered and felt, since no sorrow was as his, no pain could stand in competition with his? If then in Torment he suffered so much, as none but he could suffer, in Honour and reputation he suffered no less, and in all manners, that the fury and envy of his Enemies assisted by the Devils could invent. And if he suffered so much by the compassion of his torments, he suffered much more by the compassion of our offences.  
Thirdly, the grief of his pains was much augmented by the place, Where he suffered, which was the Court of Judaea, a place where he had heretofore been much esteemed: and of late received in triumph as a man come from Heaven: And certainly to pass suddenly from one extreme to another, from the height of honour to the bottom of contempt and scorn, increases much our afflictions; For he became the most infamous man in the world, arraigned and condemned to suffer between two Thiefs, in a public place designed for wicked persons and murderers, and in the presence of his Mother, which doubled the grief of his heart.  
Fourthly, the persons, by whom he suffered, was a great aggravation unto his grief. It was by them of his own Nation, such as he had favoured with infinite benefits: and finding some compassion in Strangers he found none in his Countrymen; The rage and madness, wherewith his enemies desired his death, being such, as the Scripture compares them to Dogs, wild Beasts, and Unicorns.  
The fifth Circumstance, and that which most increaved his sorrow, was, To see those excessive pains and torments misbestowed, foreseeing that the greatest number would not benefit themselves by them. For as the hope of profit, which is a main end in all our labours, is a great comfort unto us, so the despair of it as great an affliction. And Christ our Redeemer suffering, that his merits, blood, and passion might profit all men, when he knew that the hundredth part would not lay hold of it, and that innumerable persons would prove ungrateful for so great a benefit, it was a grief, which beyond all apprehension pierced his tender and most loving heart.  
Sixthly, the Manner of his suffering was most grievous. For it was by being generally abandoned of all things, not having any thing whatsoever to comfort him. His own people procured his death with great injustice, the Gentiles executed it with as great cruelty, and the Priests and the learned in the Law were the leaven that soured the whole lump. The Princes blew the coals, and kindled such a flame in the People as could not be quenched with those infinite injuries and affronts, which were heaped upon him; nor were they satisfied with seeing him hang upon the Cross, whom they had so unjustly punished, but rend his very bowels with their taunts and scoffs. And which was more than all, even in his own Disciples, which he had bred up in his own School, he found little firmness and loyalty. Amongst his twelve chosen Apostles One sold him, and became the Captain of those, who apprehended him: Another, unto whom he had given the principality over the rest, denied him thrice before his face, cursing himself, if he knew him, and the Rest forsook him in the power of his enemies. O never to be paralleled example of the inconstancy of humane things, and of the constancy which a Christian ought to preserve in all events! What felt that blessed heart of our Saviour, when he saw himself surrounded by so many enemies, and so few friends left him? 
Psal. 21.  Of him it was truly written; My heart became as melted wax in the midst of my bowels. True it is, that his blessed Mother, when she could neither assist or defend him, yet forsook him not; but alas her presence did not mitigate but increase his sorrow. The eternal Father, who could only help him, would not then appear for him, but gave him over to suffer with all rigour at the pleasure of his enemies: which was the more tenderly resented, as I may say, by our blessed Lord, because his enemies cast it in his teeth, saying, He trusted in God; let him deliver him, if he will have him. But for all this his Father would not then free him, or afford him any comfort, which our Saviour most lovingly complained of, when he said; My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me? Even a cup of water failed him to quench his scorching thirst: so as the whole manner of his passion, was the most grievous and opprobrious, that could be imagned.  
Lastly, the Time of his Passion made it much more grievous. It was the Eve of the Passover, when the whole Nation was assembled, when there was the greatest concourse of people to behold him. It was at a time, when he was known to all by the fame of his great works and miracles. It was in the flower of his age; and O what pity was it to behold so flourishing, so beautiful, so excellently composed a body reduced by the grievousness of his torments to such an exigent, that, as the Scripture says, his tongue stuck to the  of his mouth, so fallen in flesh, that all his bones might be numbered, the whole structure of his body so discomposed, that he became as Melted wax, or Spilt water, resolved into the dust of death: dry as a piece of an earthen pot, insomuch as he seemed a Worm and not a Man, the Scorn of the people, and Shame of humane nature. It is also worthy our admiration, that in that short process of the Passion of Christ he suffered so many griefs and pains, in so many kinds, and with such circumstances to aggravate them, as no man in the whole success of time since hath suffered any sort of calamity, or adversity, which our Redeemer did not then suffer in a more bitter manner.  
In all circumstances were the pains of Christ most grievous, because in all circumstances the offences of men were most heinous. It was convenient that he, who came to do us all good, should suffer so much evil: that he, who had no sin of his own, should undergo the punishment due unto the sins of others: and that he, who was infinitely good, should suffer the evil of so much grief and torment, to the end we might be instructed that those are not evils, which the world fears, but those which sin brings along with it: and that the goods of the world are so far from being real goods, that they are rather to be esteemed as evils, since the Redeemer of the world deprived himself of the goods, and burdened himself with the evils, to the end that we imitating in our lives his most precious death might despise all temporal goods, which are so short and false, that even the evils of the world are more true and real goods than they. Let us then be ashamed, seeing Christ in so much sorrow, to seek after pleasures. Let us have at least as great respect unto our Redeemer, as Ethay the Gethite had to David, who when the holy King fled from his Son Absalon, and persuaded him not to follow him in that dangerous condition, made him this answer; The Lord live, and my Lord the King live, in what place soever thou shalt be either dead or alive, there also shall thy servant be. If this was spoken by a Stranger, what ought to be the loyalty of a natural Subject? Let us bear that faith unto our Saviour, which Urias did to Joab his General, when he said, The Ark of Gad, and Judah, and Israel lodge in Tents, and my Lord Joab, and the Servants of my Lord remain upon the earth, and shall I enter into my house, and eat, and drink, and sleep with my Wife? by thy health, and the health of thy Soul, O King, I will do no such thing. If Christ remain upon the Cross and in sorrow, how comest thou to seek for ease? If Christ be poor, why dost thou abound? If Christ suffer, why dost thou pamper thy flesh? If Christ humble himself, why dost thou swell in pride? If Christ be in afflictions, why art thou in delights? Remember what he taught thee from the Cross, and esteem only that, which he so much valued, as to deprive himself of the transitory goods of this life. Consider the afflictions and penance, which the most innocent Jesus took upon him for thy sins, that thou mayest undergo some for thyself. When the Jews were freed from the captivity of Babylon, Esdras knowing the great sins they had fallen unto by their conversation with the Gentiles, out of a sense and feeling of their transgressions, rend his garments, and tore the hair off his head and beard, afflicted himself, and abstained from food, praying unto the Lord, and weeping for the sins of the people; which resentment and penance of his for the sins of others so mored the Jews, that they began to weep and do penance themselves for their own sins, and that with so great compunction, that they trembled for sorrow, and publicly confessed their offences. Why are not Christians then moved with sorrow and repentance, when they behold not an Esdras, but the Son of God so overcharged with grief and sorrow for the sins of the world, that he distilled drops of blood from the pores of his blessed body, and rend his garments, not of wool, but of his sacred humanity, which he willingly offered to be torn with scourges, thorns, and nails, suffered himself to be plucked by the hair of the head and beard, and his sacred face to be buffeted and spit upon, would not taste, eat, or drink any thing but gall and vinegar, weeping from the Cross for the sins committed by us wretches? Let us then weep, afflict ourselves, and do penance for our own sins, since we see our innocent Saviour did it for the sins of others, that imitating him in submitting ourselves to those temporal afflictions we may be partakers of his eternal glory.   

§ 3.  
Those seven Circumstances, which so much aggravate the pains and torments of our Saviour Jesus Christ in his passion, aught to pierce our very hearts and souls with grief and sorrow. But if they should not prevail with us to despise the world, and love him only who so infinitely loved us, yet there are other Circumstances, which with new obligations will not only move, but force us, if we be not more hard than stones, to love and die for him. Whom would not the sweet manner of his passion move, seeing the Son of God suffer with so much love and patience, without complaint of any thing, loving us with that fervour, that what he did, seemed little unto him, ready, if it had been necessary, to suffer as much more for us? yea, such was his burning charity towards Mandkind, that if there had been no other way left for our Redemption, he would not have refused to continue in those bitter torments till the day of Judgement. The affection of Jesus Christ what gratitude doth it not deserve? And if in benefits the good will, wherewith they are conferred, is most to be esteemed, When the benefit is infinite, and the will of infinite love, what shall we do? If, when that Traitor, who murdered Henry the Fourth King of France, was justly sentenced to those cruel torments wherein he died, the first begotten Son of the dead King, and Heir unto his Kingdom had clothed himselt in the habit of the Murderer, and offered to be torn in pieces for him, and to die, that he might be freed from his torments, and not only offered but actually performed it, What love and thanks would the Prince deserve from that Caitiff? O King of Glory, and only begotten Son of the eternal Father, in as much as lay in us, we were desirous to murder thy Father, and to destroy his Divine essence and being, and therefore were most worthy of death and eternal flames. But thou wert not only willing to die for us, but effectually gavest thy blood and life with so inhuman torments for us, and wert prepared to suffer more and greater▪ for our good. How shall we repay so great a love? what thanks, what gratitude for so immense a benefit? Let us also consider, What we ourselves are, for whom he suffered. For he suffered not for himself, or because it imported him: he suffered not for another God, nor for some new creature of a superior nature to all those who now are: not for a Seraphin, who had faithfully served him for an eternity of years, but for a miserable vile creature, the lowest of all those, which are capable of reason, composed of dirt, and his Enemy. This should make us more grateful, that God suffered so much for us, who lest deserved it.  
To this may be added that he suffered thus much for us, not that his suffering was necessary tor our redemption and freedom out of the slavery of sin, but took upon him all these pains and torments only to show his love unto us, and to oblige us to imitate him in the contempt of the world and all humane felicity. Let us then behold ourselves in this Mirror, and reform our lives. Let us suffer with him, who suffered so much for us. Let us be thankful unto him, who did us so much good, and so much to his own cost. Let it grieve our very souls that we have offended so good a God, who suffered so many evils, that we should not be evil. Let us admire the Divine goodness, who being the honour of Angels, would for so vile a creature abase himself to the reproach of the Cross. Let us love him, who so truly loved us. Let us put our trust in him, who without ask gave us more than we durst desire. Let us imitate this great example proposed unto us by the Eternal Father upon Mount Calvarie. Let us compose our lives conformable unto the death. of his Son our Saviour in all humility and contempt of temporal felicity, that we may thereby attain the eternal: that humbling ourselves now, he may exalt us hereafter; that suffering here, he may in his good time comfort us; that tasting in this life what is bitter, we may in the other be satiated with all sweetness: and that weeping in time we may rejoice for all eternity; To which end our Saviour said unto the great Imitator of his Passion St. Francis: Francis, take those things that are bitter in lieu of those that are sweet, if thou intendest to be happy. And accordingly St. Austin: Brethren, 
Augus. Ser. 11. ad fra.  Know that after the pleasures of this life are to follow eternal lamentations: for no man can rejoice both in this world and the next. And therefore it is necessary, that he who will possess the one, should lose the other. If thou desirest to rejoice here, know that thou shalt be banished from. thy Celestial Country; but if thou shalt here weep, thou shalt even at present be counted as a Citizen of Heaven. And therefore our Lord said: Blessed are those who weep, for they shall be comforted. And for this reason it is not known that our Saviour ever laughed: but it is certain, that he often wept; and for this reason chose a life of pains and troubles, to show us that that was the right way to joy and repose.    

CAP. V.  
The Importance of the Eternal, because God hath made himself a means for our obtaining it, and hath left his most holy Body as a Pledge of it in the Blessed Sacrament.  
ANother most potent motive to induce us to the estimation of what is Eternal, and the contempt of what is Temporal, is, That God hath in the most holy and venerable Sacrament of his body and blood made himself a means, that we might attain the one by despising the other; Which holy Mystery was instituted, That it might serve as a Pledge of those eternal goods: and therefore the holy Church calls it a Pledge of future glory; and, That it might also serve us as a Viaticum, whereby we might the better pass this temporal life without the superfluous use of those goods, which are so dangerons unto us: Our Lord bestowing this Divine bread upon us Christians, as he did that of Manna heretofore unto the Hebrews. And therefore as we gave a beginning unto this work with a presentation of that temporal Manna, which served as a Viaticum unto the children of Israel in the wilderness, so we will now finish it with the truth of this spiritual Manna of the blessed Sacrament, which is a Pledge of the eternal goods, and given as a Viaticum unto Christian people in the peregrination of this life.  
Let a Christian therefore know how much it imports him to obtain the Eternal, and with what earnestness his Creator desires it; that having obliged us by those high endearments of his Incarnation, and Passion in suffering for us so grievous and cruel a death, would yet add such an excess of love, as to leave himself unto us in the most blessed Sacrament, as a means of our Salvation. Who sees not here the infinite goodness of God, since he, who as God omnipotent is the beginning of all things, and as the chief good of all goods, and most perfect in himself, is likewise their utmost end, would yet for our sakes make himself a Medium, which is common to the creatures, and argues no perfection? Our Lord glories in the Scripture that he is the beginning and end of all: And with reason; for this is worthy of his greatness, and declares a perfection whereof only God is capable. But to make himself a Medium, and such a Medium, as was to be used according to humane will, and subject to the power and despose of man, was such a compliance with our nature, and such a desire of our salvation, as cannot be imagined. the Means of our salvation may be considered either as they are on God's part, or on Man's part; for both God and Man work for man's salvation. That God should serve himself for himself in the Incarnation and Passion for th● salvation of man, was a high expression of his love: but yet it was God, who was served, and who made use of one of the divine persons for the end which he pretends of his glory; but that man should make use of God for his own glory, is beyond what we can think. What a wonder is it that Christ should equal himself with Water, Oil, and Balsam? For as we use Water in Baptism to justify ourselves, in Confirmation of Balsom to sanctify and fortify ourselves,, of Oil in extreme Unction to purify ourselves, so in this Sacrament we may use Christ for the acquiring of greater grace; and increase of holiness. A great matter then is the salvation of man, since for this purpose God, who is his End, was content to be his Means. I know not how the incomprehensible goodness and charity of God can extend beyond this. Let man therefore reflect how much it imports him to be saved; Let him not stick at any thing that may further it; Let him leave no stone unremoved, let him leave no means unattempted, since God himself becomes a Means of his salvation, and to that end subjects himself to the disposition and will of a Creature. Let nothing which is temporal divert him, since God was not diverted by what was eternal. If therefore to quit thy honours, deny thy pleasures, distribute thy riches unto the Poor be a means to save thee, stick not at it, since God stuck not at the greatness of his being, which is above all, but gave himself for thee.  
The blessed Sacrament was also left us as a Pledge of future glory and eternal happiness. For when Christ our Redeemer preached unto the world the contempt of temporal goods for the gaining of the eternal, and pronounced that comfortable sentence, Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the Kingdom of heaven, not saying Theirs shall be, but Theirs is, giving it them in present: It was convenient, that since they could not then enter into the possession of those heavenly joys, which they had purchased with all they had upon earth, that some equivalent pledge should now be given them in the time of their forbearance. This pledge is the most blessed Body of our Redeemer Christ Jesus, Son of the living God, which is of greater worth and value, than the heavens themselves. Well may we then despise the fading goods of this life, when we receive in hand such a pledge of the eternal. Well may we renounce the perishing riches and the pleasures of nature, when the treasure of grace is bestowed upon us.  
The blessed Sacrament is also out Viaticum here upon earth; Whereby we are given to understand, that this life is but a pilgrimage, wherein we travel towards eternity: and that therefore we are not to stay and rest in what is temporal. And because we are neither to enjoy the goods of this temporal life, nor yet to enter upon those of the future, to the end we may better suffer the renuntiation of the one, and sustain the hopes of the other, this blessed Sacrament is given us as a Viaticum: so as the soul wand'ring in this valley of tears (wherein she is not to please or detain herself in the delights of the world, since her journey is for heaven) might have something to comfort her in this absence from her Celestial Country. Let us then consider the value of the End whereunto we travel, since the journey is defrayed with so precious a Viaticum; and that the pleasures of this world are so prejudicial unto our Salvation, that this Pledge is given us from heaven, to the end we should not so much as taste them. The Israelites in their peregrinaon in the wilderness had Manna for their Viaticum which supplied all their necessities for it not only served to sustain their bodies, but whilst they fed upon it they were not subject to infirmities, neither did their garments decay with wearing, insomuch as having it, they had all things. All this is but a shadow of our Divine Viaticum: having which, we need nothing, and being provided of so Celestial a good may well spare what is temporal.  

§. 2.  
A most principal end also of the institution of this most admirable Sacrament is to be a memorial of the Passion of the Son of God: which being so efficacious a motive unto the contempt of things temporal (as we have already said) our Saviour hath almost in all the things of nature left us a draught of it. For this reason in the holy , 
Paleot. adm. Hist. de Christi stigmat. Adricom. 2. par. descr. Hiero. n. 44. Lansp. hom. 19 de Passione. Andrad. in descrip. Terraesanctae. Petrus de P. A. Consil. Reg. Francis. lib. 5. in Const. in lib. inscrip. Fraustus. Annus.  wherein his wounded body was wrapped, when they took him from the Cross, there remained miraculously imprinted the signs of his Passion. For this, when loaden with his Cross the pious Veronica presented him with her Veil, he returned it enriched with the Portraiture of his sacred countenance: And, as Lanspergius notes, the fingers of the armed Soldier, who gave him the blow, were imprinted in the same Veil. For this, when he fell prostrate in the Garden, and in a sweat of blood prayed unto his Father, he left ingraved upon the stone, whereon he prayed, the print of his feet, knees and hands. And not far from thence is found another stone, where, after he was apprehended, the Soldiers throwing him down upon the ground, he left imprinted the end of his toes, his hands and knees; which stone, as Borcardus notes, is so hard, as 'tis not possible to raze or cut any thing out of it even with iron instruments: and this to the end the memory of his ineffable meekness and partience should be perpetual. In like manner where he passed the brook of Cedron he left another mark of his sacred feet, as likewise of the rope, wherewith they carried him tied. So firmly would our Saviour have the memory of his Passion fixed in our hearts, that he hath left the signs of it in the very rocks. There hath been also seen an Oriental Jasper accidentally found, whereon the dolorous countenance of our Saviour hath been exactly form. And blessed Aloysius de Gonzaga walking upon the Seashore found (with great content of his spirit) a pebble, whereon were distinctly figured the five wounds of Christ our Redeemer. And not only in stones, but in several other pieces of nature, 
Anast. Sinaita in Hexamer.  as St. Anastatius Sinaita observes, he hath left us no obscure remembrances of his Cross and Passion. In the flower Granadilla are perfectly represented the Nails, Pillar, and Crown of thorns. In dividing the fruit of the tree Musa appears in some of them the Image of a Cross: in others of Christ crucified: and in Gant they hold in great esteem the root of a beautiful flower brought from Jerusalem, wherein is also lively represented a Crucifix. Neither are the Elements left free from such representations. Alfonso the first Portugal beheld in the air an Escutcheon with the five wounds; And the Emperor Constantine the principal Instrument of the Passion, the Cross, which hath also divers other times appeared. But what more gracious and loving demonstration of the memory, which he desires we should still preserve of his torments, than the wounds which he hath imprinted upon the persons of many of his servants? 
Blos. li. 15. c. 3. Tritem. in Crim. ad an. 1500. Surius 14. Aprilis. Mosc. in vita S. Clarae.  For besides St. Francis, who was marked with the most evident signs of his favour, the like were received by St. Gertrude, and St. Lucia of Ferrara. And what more express memorial of the passion of our Redeemer, than the heart of St. Clara of Monte Falco, in which was found the Image of Christ crucified, the Pillar, Whip, Lance, and other instruments of the Passion? We should never make an end, if we should recount all those several ways, by which Christ our Saviour hath represented unto us his death and passion, to the end we should ever have it present and fixed in our memory. But above all, the most blessed Sacrament (in which divine mystery the lively representation of his death is as often repeated, as his holy body is consecrated in the whole world)▪ was a great demonstration of his infinite love towards mankind: Wherein he gives us to understand, that he desires not only once, but a million of times to die for us, and that, though he cannot now return again to be crucified by reason of the impassibility of his glorified body, yet his divine charity hath found a way after an unbloody and impassable manner to repeat the Sacrifice of the Cross, and the fruit of our redemption. How great a gratitude do we own our Saviour for so infinite an expression of his good will towards us? and how can we be grateful, it forgetful of so profitable and advantageous a benefit? Let not then his Passion departed from our thoughts; but let us rather departed from our pleasures, and despise all humane felicity, since we behold the Lord of the world in such humility.  
Moreover this most blessed Sacrament is not only a Memorial of the Passion of Jesus Christ, but of the Incarnation and wonderful works of God: and not only brings into our memory what Christ did, when he suffered for us, but what the Eternal Word did, when he became flesh for us: that immense God, unto whom the whole Globe of the Earth serves but as a footstool, descending from Heaven, and so far lessening himself, as to cover that infinite Majesty under the form of a Servant; of which this Divine Sacrament is a most excellent and lively representation. For in it also the God of Heaven, being already incarnate and made man, descends from Heaven, and vails himself under the accidents of a little bread and wine, and there is, as it were, annihilated for us, and become nothing. Besides, as in the Eucharist we receive Christ crucified, so in it also we receive the Word incarnate; insomuch as these two great wonders of God, the Passion and Incarnation are not only represented, but as it were multiplied unto us in this blessed Sacrament: which was a high thought of God, and according to what he said by his Prophet David, 
Psal. 39  Thou hast made thy wonders many, O Lord: And there is none who is like unto thee in thy cogitations. Here God made his wonders (that is, his Passion and Incarnation,) many, repeating, and, as it were, multiplying them in this blessed Sacrament: Which was a most high thought of him, who is the supreme Wisdom; nor could it enter into any understanding but that of the Divinity, that that which was so extraordinary, and so far above the reach of all created capacities, as the Son of God to be sacrificed, and the eternal Word to descend from Heaven and be made man, should become so ordinary and familiar, as we daily see it in the use of this Divine Mystery. But God did not only here make his wonders many, but made them great, as the same David cries out; How magnified are thy works, O Lord! 
Psal. 91.  Thy cogitations are most profound. For although the works of the Passion and Incarnation are so great, yet they are as it were enlarged, and made greater by this holy Sacrament. The greatness of the work of the Incarnation consisted in this, that God abased himself, and was made man: and the greatness of that of the Passion, in that he humbled himself unto death. But in this Sacrament he abases and humbles himself yet lower, becoming food for man, which is less than to be man, or to die, which is natural unto man. Besides this, the general fruit of the Incarnation and Passion is after a most admirable manner particularly applied in this blessed Sacrament to every one, which receives it worthily. The Death and Passion of Christ upon Mount Calvarie was no doubt a great work of God; but in this Mystery we behold the same Death, Passion, and Sacrifice after an unbloody and impassable manner, which is certainly the greater miracle, and expresses more the Divine power. The Incarnation likewise, when the Eternal Word entered into the womb of a Virgin, was a great work of God; but in this Mystery it is in a certain manner extended and made greater; and is therefore called an extension of the Incarnation, our Lord here entering into the breast of every Christian, and uniting himself unto him.  
These are the marvails of the Law of Grace; concerning which the Prophet Isaias said unto the Lord: 
Isai. 64.  When thou shalt do wonders, we shall not sustain them. Thou hast descended, and the mountains melted at thy presence. From the beginning they have not heard, nor understood with their ears, neither hath the eye seen, O God, besides thee, what thou hast prepared for those who expect thee. The Prophet speaks of those wondrous works, which were to be seen at the coming of the Messiah, which wore to be such as the world had never heard of, nor had ever entered into any thought but that of God; and therefore the Apostle alleging this place, saith, That the eye hath not seen, nor the ear hath heard, neither hath it entered into the heart of man what God hath prepared for those who love him: Since over and above those two stupendious wonders of taking flesh and dying for us, he hath given himself as food unto those Souls, who remain in his grace and love him; which is so great and marvelous a work, as only God could think of it, and besides God none. And as only God can truly value it, so it is not in the power of man sufficiently to acknowledge it: No humane heart being able to support the weight of such an obligation, and the greatness of the Divine love, which shines forth in this wonder of wonders. 
Tertul. li. de Patien. cap. 1.  Tertullian said, The greatness of some goods were intolerable; the which according to the Prophet Isaias is verified in this Divine good and benefit, which we were not able to support. Wherefore it is called in holy Scripture, The good, or the good thing of God: because it is a good and a benefit, which more clearly than the Sun discovers the infinite and ineffable goodness of God, to the astonishment and amazement of a humane heart; and therefore the Prophet Oseas says, 
Osee 3.  They shall be astonished at the Lord, and at his Good; because his Divine benefit amazes and astonishes the Soul of man to see how good the Lord is, and how great the good which he communicates unto us; All which tends to no other end than to make us despise the goods of the Earth, and to esteem only those of Heaven, which we attain unto by this Divine mystery. For this therefore did Christ our Redeemer institute this most blessed Sacrament, that by it we might withdraw our hearts from things temporal, and settle our affections upon those which are eternal, for which it is most particularly efficacious, as those who worthily receive it have full experience.   

§. 3.  
Wherefore let that Soul, who goes to communicate, consider, Who it is that enters into him, and Who he is himself, who entertains so great a Guest. Let him call to mind with what reverence the blessed Virgin received the Eternal Word, when he entered into her holy Womb; and let him know it is the same Word, which a Christian receives into his entrails in this Divine Sacrament: Let him therefore endeavour to approach this holy Table with all reverence, love, and gratitude, which ought, if possible, to be greater than that of the blessed Mother. For then the obligation of Mankind was not so great, as now it is. For neither she, nor we were then indebted unto him for his dying upon the Cross. Let him consider that he receives the same Christ, who sits at the right hand of God the Father, That it is he, who is the supreme Lord of Heaven and Earth, He, whom the Angels adore, He, who created and redeemed us, and is to judge the living and the dead, He, who is of infinite wisdom, power, beauty, and goodness. If a Soul should behold him, as when St. Paul beheld him, and was struck blind with his light and splendour, how would he fear and reverence him? Let him know that he is not now less glorious in the Host, and that he is to approach him with as much reverence, as if he saw him in his Throne of glory. With much reason did St. Teresa of Jesus say unto a devout Soul, unto whom she appeared after death, That we upon earth ought to behave ourselves unto the blessed Sacrament, as the blessed in Heaven do towards the Divine Essence, loving and adoring it with all our power and forces. Consider also, that he, who comes in person to thee, is that self same Lord, that required so much reverence, that he struck Oza dead, because he did but touch with his hand the Ark of his Testament, and slew 50000 Bethshamits for their looking on it; And thou not only seest, and touchest, but receivest him into thy very bowels. See then with what reverence thou oughtest to approach him. The Angels and Seraphins tremble before his greatness, and the Just are afraid. Do thou then tremble, fear and adore him. S. John standing but near unto an Angel remained without force, astonished at the greatness of his Beauty and Majesty; and thou art not to receive an Angel, but the Lord of Angels into thy entrails. It adds much to the endearment of this great benefit of our Saviour, that it is not only great by the greatness of that, which is bestowed, but by the meaneness of him, who receives it. For what art thou but a most vile creature, composed of clay and dirt, full of misery, ignorance, weakness, and malice? If the Centurion held himself unworthy to receive Christ under his roof, and St. Peter, when our Saviour was in this mortal life, deemed himself not worthy to be in his presence, saying, Depart from me, O Lord, for I am a sinful man: and St. John Baptist thought himself not worthy to unloose the latchet of his shoe, How much more oughtest thou to judge thyself unworthy to receive him into thy bowels, being now in his glory seated at the right hand of God the Father? The Angels in heaven are not pure in his sight: What purity shouldest thou have to entertain him in thy breast? If a mighty King should visit a poor Beggar in his Cottage, what honour, what respects would it confer upon him? Behold God, who is the King of Kings, and Lord of Lords, comes to visit thee, not in thy house, but within thyself. Seven years did Solomon spend in building a Temple, wherein to place the Ark of the Testament. Why dost thou not spend some time in making thyself a Temple of God himself? Noah was a hundred years in preparing a Vessel, wherein to save those, who were to escape the Deluge. Why dost thou not spare some days or hours to make thyself a Sacristy for the Saviour of the World? Behold thy own unworthiness, and what thou goest about. Moses, when he was to make an Ark for the Tables of the Law, not only made choice of precious wood, but covered it all with gold. Thou miserable and vile Worm, why dost thou not prepare and adorn thyself to receive the Lord of the Law?  
Consider also what is the end, for which thy Saviour comes unto thee. It is by communicating his grace to make thee partaker of his Divinity. He comes to cure thy sores and infirmities; he comes to give remedy to thy necessities; he comes to unite himself unto thee; he comes to Deify thee. Behold then the infinity of his Divine goodness, who thus melts himself in communication with his Creatures. Behold what is here given thee, and for what it is given thee. God gives himself unto thee, that thou mayest be all divine, and nothing left in thee of earth. In other benefits God bestows his particular gifts upon thee; but here he gives thee himself, that thou mightest also give thyself unto him, and be wholly his. If from the Incarnation of the Son of God we gather the great love he bore unto mankind, passing for his sake from that height of greatness unto that depth of humiliation, as to enclose himself in the Womb of a Virgin: Behold how in this he loves thee, since to sustain thee in the life of grace he hath made himself the true food of thy Soul, and comes from the right hand of the eternal Father to enclose himself in thy most impure breast. Jesus Christ comes also to make thee one body with himself, that thou mayest after an admirable manner be united unto him, and made partaker not only of his spirit, but of his blood. That, which this Consideration ought to work in the breast of a Christian, may appear by what a less than this wrought in the heart of a Heathen. The Emperor and Philosopher Antoninus writes, 
Anton. l. 1. & 2.  That in respect we are a part of the world, we ought to rest content and satisfied with what accidents soever shall befall us, and to do nothing unworthy of reason. What ought we then to do for being a part of Christ? Our works certainly ought not to be only worthy of Angels, but of the sons of God.  
Neither doth the manner, by which this Divine benefit is conferred, a little endear it unto thee. It is with such singular love, as is in uniting himself unto thee: It is in feeding thee with his precious body and blood: It is by humbling himself as much as he could for thee: It is by treading under foot the most constant Laws of Nature, and working more▪ prodigious miracles for thee, than Moses did in Egypt. All which is a demonstration of that infinite desire, wherewith he pretends thy good, sticking at nothing that may advance it. God gives himself unto thee after the most easy and facile manner for man, and after the most extraordinary for God. He gives himself unto thee for meat. Nothing is more natural for man than to eat, and nothing more supernatural, than that God should serve as meat. Let him then, who comes from receiving this heavenly food, consider what he owes for so unspeakable a benefit. Let him make account, that Christ seated in his heart, speaks unto him after the manner he spoke unto his Apostles, when he had washed their feet. Thou knowest, O soul, what I have done unto thee; Thou knowest the gift I have bestowed upon thee; Thou knowest the honour and savour I have conferred upon thee; Thou knowest what thou hast received; Thou knowest what thou hast within thee. Know it is thy God and Redeemer; know it is he who desires all good unto thee. Be therefore thankful unto him; desire nothing of earth, but fix wholly upon what is eternal and thy chief good.    

CAP. VI  
Whether temporal things and to be demanded of God; And that we only ought in our Prayers to aim at goods eternal.  
THe difference betwixt Temporal and Eternal is easily discovered by the small account which God makes of granting things temporal, and the great pleasure he takes in our demanding things eternal. The temporal is sometimes granted as a chastisement, The eternal as a great reward: and were it not for the infinite merits of his Son would not be granted at all. For this reason Christ himself commands us, that we should ask the Father in his name, assuring us that whatsoever is so demanded, shall be granted▪ And when he invites his Disciples to ask, he tells them, That hitherto they had demanded nothing: esteeming that though indeed they had asked, him somethings temporal, yet because they had not as yet demanded any thing that was eternal, they had asked nothing. So as the promise of our Saviour, That his Father would grant all our petitions in his name, is to be understood only, When we petition for the eternal goods of grace and glory. The temporal is of so little worth, that for itself, or in his name Christ would not have us ask it. Neither does he promise that it should be granted; For in the Divine acceptance, all, which doth not conduce and help to our salvation, is reputed as nothing. Whereupon St. Austin, says; 
Augus. Trac. in Johan.  This joy is demanded in the name of Christ, if we understand divine grace, if we demand that life which is true happiness. If any thing else be demanded, nothing is demanded; not that in reality in itself it is nothing, but that in comparison of so great things, whatsoever besides is desired, is to be esteemed as nothing; in so much as, according to St. Austin, though you demand temporal things a thousand times over, yet you demand nothing.  
For this reason many wise men have doubted whether we may lawfully petition God for the temporal things of the world. I will first deliver the opinions of the greatest Philosophers, and then how the gravest Divines have decided this controversy. Marcus Aurelius in the name of many Philosophers says, That we are not at all to demand what is temporal, but that we are rather to pray, that we may not esteem or desire them; and therefore in a most prudent discourse, wherein he wants nothing of a Christian, but the acknowledgement of one sole God instead of many, he thus argues. 
Marc. Antonin. lib. 9  Either the Gods can do something or not. If not, Why dost thou pray unto them? If they can, Why dost thou not rather pray them to grant that thou mayest neither fear nor desire the things of the earth, not to be afflicted more with their want, than their possession? For if the Gods be able to assist men at all, they are able to assist them in this. Perhaps thou wilt say, The Gods have subjected these things unto thy own power. Be it so. Yet tell me: Is it not better thou shouldest use these things, which are in thy power, with freedom, than with a servile and abject mind to be solicitous and afflict thyself for those things, which are not in thy power? And who hath told thee, that the Gods do not help us in those things, which are subject unto us? Begin then to pray tor those things, and thou shalt see what will happen. This man prays he may enjoy such a woman: Do thou pray thou mayest have no such desire. Another prays he may be eased of something which troubles him: Do thou pray thou mayest have no need to be eased. Another prays he may not lose his Son: Do thou pray thou mayest not fear it. Make thy prayers after this manner, and see what will follow. In so much then as it was the opinion of this Philosopher, that we should not pray unto God for things temporal, but for the right way of using them, which is true virtue: Let us also hear what was said by Socrates the most excellent of Moral Philosophers, who judged (as St. Thomas relates him) that nothing in particular was to be demanded of God, 
S. Tho. 2.2. q. 83. art. 5.  but only that he would give us good things, because God only knows what is good and expedient for us: and men for the most part desire and pray for those things, which (if obtained) are hurtful. This opinion is approved by St. Thomas and the rest of the Divines in as much as concerns temporal things, which we may use ill. Whereupon the Angelical Doctor concludes, that we are not determinately to pray for any thing temporal, but only for spiritual and eternal. These are only those, which ought and may be absolutely prayed for; other things, as they serve to obtain these, in a secondary way, and as much of them only, as is sufficient, and expedient for to obtain the eternal.  
It is most certain, that those prayers, which are offered to God only for the obtaining of things eternal without respect to any temporal or earthly commodity, are as a sweet savour unto the Lord, like that Rod of perfume so much celebrated in the Canticles, 
Cant. 3.  composed of incense, myrrh, and spices, which ascended straight unto heaven. Whereupon St. Gregory says, that prayer is called that little Rod of sweet smoke: because, whilst it only supplicates for eternal blessings, it mounts directly to heaven without inclining unto any thing that is earthly. Well may it be seen how little our Saviour is pleased with earthly petitions by that answer he gave unto the Wife of Zebedeus, when she desired that her two Sons might have the honour to sit one at the right hand of his Throne, and the other at the left; Our Saviour answered, They know not what they asked; because, as St. Chysostome says, Their petition was for the things temporal, and not spiritual and eternal. Certainly a fool he is, who when he may have heaven for ask, trifles away his time in demanding things of the earth. A fool he is, who when he needs but to demand eternal glory, busies himself in praying for temporal honours. A fool he is, who having but to ask grace from God, loses his time in ask favours from men. Certainly he knows not what he prays for, who prays to be rich. He knows not what he prays for, who prays for great Places and Commands. Finally, who prays for honours, accommodations, pleasures, or any thing that ends in time, knows not what he prays for, because he knows not how little is all that which time consumes.  

§. 2.  
Paludanus observes three errors in the Petition of the mother of St. James and St. John. The first, 
Palud. Enarr. 1. de S. Jacobo.  that she did not observe a due order in the petition; The second, that it was not clear and free from affections of flesh and blood; And the third, that the subject of it was vain and unprofitable. All these errors are sound, when not attending unto the eternal we petition for what is temporal. For of the first, who sees not that he who demands temporal things, violates and perverts all order? for what more disorderly proceeding, than to demand little, when we may obtain much, to sue for that, whereof we have no need, and to neglect that, which is extremely necessary? The necessities of the body hold no comparison with those of the soul. The soul hath more necessity of divine grace, than the body of food. The soul hath more enemies: and stands therefore in more need of the favour and assistance of heaven. 
Gelas. contra Pelag. Epis. 5. lib. 6.  It is against her, that the infernal powers have conspired; and therefore it is she who stands in most necessity of divine succour. Gelasius the Pope speaking of our first Parents, saith, That when they were in the state of innocency, replenished with all those gifts of graces, wherewith God had enriched them, and that they had not those adversaries which now we have, (for neither the world nor the flesh were then their enemies,) Yet because they did not pray for the divine assistance and favour, that they fell into sin. Having received, saith this great Pope, such abundance of grace, yet because they did not pray, (as their is no mention that they did) they were not secure. How needful is it then for us to pray, who want that original justice, have our nature weakened and corrupted by sin, our flesh rebellious against the soul, the World with all its instruments of vanity and deceit, and so many occasions and dangers of sinning, our enemies and the devil himself irritated by those singular favours expressed towards our nature by the Son of God, more fierce against us then before? So as it is not possible to declare the great need we have of divine grace. And now to forget this great necessity, and to forbear crying unto heaven for a remedy, from whence we can only hope it, how great a folly and disorder is it? If a man in the Dog-days were exposed naked in some Desert against the scorching beams of the Sun, and ready to perish for thirst, and should meet one, who were furnished with plenty of cool water, would he not ask some to refresh him? or if he forbore to ask it, would he demand a warm Jacket, which were only useful in Winter, and in Summer a burden and a trouble? Certainly a greater madness and disorder cannot be imagined; And yet ours is far worse, if we demand temporal goods, which can only hinder and entangle us, and neglect to pray for the water of divine grace, without which we are certain to perish. But even in temporal things themselves we know not what order to observe in our demands: because we are ignorant which are most convenient for us. Who knows whether it be better for him to be sick or in health: since it may so happen, that being in health he may fall into some grievous sin and be damned, and being sick he may repent and be saved? Who knows whether poverty or wealth may be more convenient for him: since being in abundance he may forget God, and being in necessity of all things he may have recourse unto his holy service? Who knows whether it be better for him to be honoured, or suffer confusion: since honour may puff him up in vanity, and humiliation may make him prudent and wary? No man knows what is good or evil for him. That which we desire is oftentimes our ruin and destruction, and those evils which we weep for, as often turn into our greatest happiness. How can there then be any order in our prayers for temporal things, whereof we are totally ignorant whether they are good or hurtful.  
The second great error in our prayers for temporal things is the disordinate affection, and want of pure intention, which accompanies such petitions: whereas our prayers ought only to proceed from a pure and mortified mind, wholly intent upon the service of God. To signify this, The fire, which was to burn the incense, was fetched from the Altar of Holocausts; and that our prayers may be acceptable and of a sweet savour unto God, they are to spring from an inflamed heart, Sacrificed unto his divine Majesty in a true Holocaust of our whole will and affections; And he who demands any temporal things from God Almighty after another manner, may justly fear lest they may be granted for his greater punishment. Therefore St. Thomas says, 
St. Tho. 2.2. q. 83. art. 19  that our Lord God grants unto sinners what they desire with an evil affection for a Chastisement of their desires. So he granted Quails unto the murmuring Isrealites, who died with the morsel in their mouths. We ought therefore to be cautious in our prayers, and tremble at our own desires, since their success may prove so dangerous unto us. And I wonder not at all that he, who desires the goods of this world, is often punished in the grant of his petition, since it is a kind of impudence to use God as a Medium for the obtaining of that, which does or may separate us from him, who is our chief and utmost end. Guigo Cathusianus says, 
Guigo Carthus. in Medit.  that he, who prays for temporal things, uses God Almighty, as the Spouse does her Husband, when she desires him to bring her with his own hands some vile slave, with whom she may adulterate. So we desiring temporal goods increase our affection to the things of the earth, which make us forget the love of our Creator, and praying for them, pray for the instruments and occasions of offending him. Let us not commit this treason against our Lord God, but let us ask what may redound to his glory and our own profit, which is only that, which is spiritual and eternal, to wit his grace, his knowledge, the imitation of his Son, the contempt of the world, and what is conformable to his holy will. This we may safely ask, and this he will certainly give us, because it is for our true good. And therefore in the prayer, which our Lord himself hath taught us, when we have said, Thy will be done, we proceed in a bolder manner, and say in an imparative way, Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses, having then a kind of certainty of obtaining, when we have first conformed our prayers to the divine will; and it is then, as Origen notes, a singular confidence we have in God to command what we pray for.  
The third error in our petitions for temporal goods is, that we pray for things vain without substance or profit; for such is all temporal greatness and felicity, short, vain, inconstant, transitory and unworthy the heart of man, which ought wholly to fix upon the eternal, and trample the rest under foot, like that mysterious woman in the Apocalypse, who was surrounded and penetrated by the Sun, which filled the heart and bowels, but trod the Moon under her feet: the Sun which is perfectly circular, being a Symbol of eternity, and the Moon, which is defective and mutable, a figure of the temporal. The Sun hath its own proper light: the Moon none but what she borrows from the Sun. In the same manner the eternal is a good in itself, and desirable for itself; the temporal hath no good at all, but what it acquires by being a means of obtaining the eternal. All humane felicity is but vanity, smoke, thorns, deceit, and misery. With what face can a Christian demand such stuff from God Almighty? and such is all humane prosperity in God's acceptance. 
Chrysos. hom. 79. in Mat.  Out of which consideration St. chrysostom speaks in this manner; A Roman Judge will not understand thy allegations, unless thou speak unto him in the Roman tongue. In the like manner Christ will not hear thee, unless thou speak unto him in his own language, and thy mouth be conformable unto his. In the language of our Redeemer, riches are thorns, honours smoke, and pleasures vipers; and therefore he who prays for things of this nature, prays but for so many evils. And as there is no Father, that, if his Son instead of bread demand a Scorpion, will give it him; so God to those, whom he loves and holds as Children, when they ask him temporal goods, denies them: because he sees they are not good for them. For this reason the honour demanded by the Wife of Zebedaeus for her two sons was denied by our Saviour with this answer, That they knew not what they asked, demanding that for a good, which was not, and in room of the honour, which they desired in a temporal Kingdom, he gave them Martyrdom, which they thought not of, which conduced to real and eternal happiness.  
Let us learn therefore How and for What to pray, that we err not in a matter of such importance: For if the error be so much greater, by now much the matter, in which it falls, is of greater moment, an error in matter of prayer must be most great, especially having a divine precept, and an infallible promise, that if we demand what is necessary for our Salvation in his name we shall not fail of obtaining it. Let us not therefore ask that in the name of our Saviour, for which he would not die, but that which he bought for us with his precious blood and life, which is the blessings of heaven, and our eternal felicity. For this let us sigh, for this let us pray, and let us reflect how great and faulty a carelessness it is not to pray ever for that, which imports us so much as heaven, and for which only we have a certain promise to be heard, and not for other things, which the world esteems, and time consumes.    

CAP. VII.  
How happy are those who renounce Temporal goods for the securing of the Eternal.  
IF all which hath been said suffice not to make us despise the goods of the earth for the gaining of those blessings we hope for in heaven: and if neither the example nor remonstrances of our Saviour will serve to make us esteem the Eternal, and contemn the Temporal, but that we will for all this prefer the one, though little and base, because present, before the other, though great and immense, because to come: Yet let our present interest, and the word and promise of the Son of God move us, which certainly, if seriously weighed, will not only persuade us to despise, but totally to renounce the goods of the world, as many of the Philosophers have done, that they might more freely enjoy the pleasures and commodities of this life, and many Saints for the hopes they have had of the other. Let us here call to mind what was said by the Saviour of the world, 
Mat. 19  Whosoever shall leave father, or mother, or brothers, or sisters, or house, or land for my sake, shall in this life receive a hundred-fold and after death life eternal. In which words we are to consider the greatness of the promise, and the importance of that, for which so great things are promised. Without doubt it must be of high concernment to renounce our temporal goods, since the Son of God invites us to it with so great promises, and if it be convenient to renounce them as things poisonous and hurtful to us, we can have no excuse for not despising them; or at least, if we do not despise them, yet we can have no reason to love and prefer them before the eternal. Much and extremely much it will concern us to despise that, which is convenient for us to leave, and as much to pluck from our hearts the affection of those things, which are not fit for us to possess. Neither is it much to say, that it is advantageous for us to renounce these temporal things, since St. Bonaventure judged it necessary; and therefore, according to the Apostle, says, That the root of all evil is avarice, from which, and from pride, which accompanies it, all sins have their birth, food and increase. Whereupon St. Austin calls it the foundation of the City of Babylon. This Covetousness is seated in the affections of the soul as in its proper subject, but is fed and receives nourishment from those exterior things, which we possess. Wherefore wholly to extripate it two things are necessary, not only to quit this interior thirst and gaping after riches, but also that exterior possession of them. The first is to be done by the will and spirit: but the second by an actual and effectual execution and forsaking them; and it is for this that we are promised in this life a hundred-fold, and in the next eternal felicity. O how great a distance is there discovered betwixt things temporal and eternal, since the only hope of the eternal bestows more upon us even in this life, than we can receive from the dominion and possession of all that is temporal! Temporal goods by being enjoyed and possessed are not so much as doubled, but by being renounced for Christ are multiplied a hundred-fold, and hereafter confer the Kingdom of Heaven. Abundance of temporal goods (as hath been already observed) hinder and obstruct the pleasures and contents of this life, for which we seek them, and hereafter throw their possessors into hell flames; so as they are not only the occasion of eternal pain, but by anticipation of many temporal inconveniences. For, I know not how it comes to pass, the most rich are not the most contented, nor yet the least necessitated. It seems their goods diminish in their hands, and are of less value amongst them, than the poor: at least ten is not worth to a rich man, so much as one to a poor; so as the poor, who have renounced their goods for Christ, find them multiplied a hundred-fold, and the rich, who forgetting their Redeemer employ themselves wholly in heaping up wealth, find them as much diminished, and of a hundred enjoy not one. Besides, the rich are so encumbered with cares, dangers, fears, and perturbations, that they know not the true contents of this life, and yet run the hazard of eternal damnation in the other. But to the contrary those, who are poor in spirit, and have forsaken their possessions for Christ, are in this world filled with joy, peace and comfort, and in the next enjoy the Kingdom of Heaven. O how happy are they who understand this, and know how to change earth for heaven! O how truly doth Christ call happy the poor in spirit, who have left all for his sake, and therefore enjoy a double happiness, the one present, and the other future: here a hundred-fold for that which they possess not, and hereafter the possession of life eternal! O how happy is he, who knows with the riches of the earth to purchase the treasure of glory in death, and in life to receive them a hundred-fold doubled!  

Cassian. Collat. ult. c. ult.  This according to Abbot Abraham is fully verified in religious persons, who have quitted all they have upon earth to live in an estate of poverty: who for one Father, which they have left, find a hundred in religion, and for one Brother a hundred who embrace them with Christian charity, for one possession a hundred possessions, and for one house a hundred houses in the multitude of Monasteries founded for their Order; so as there is no doubt, but this reward is not only doubled unto them a hundred-fold, but multiplied to a fare greater proportion. The same may be seen in other servants of God, who serve him in voluntary poverty, 
Beda de Nat. Sancti Benedic.  who by how much (as Bede notes) they have served God with more affection in renouncing their temporal goods, by so much hath God stirred up the affections and liberalities of others to supply and assist them in all their wants. So as they are served with the goods of all, and, as the Apostle says, having nothing possess all.  
But although this recompense should fail us, yet one a hundred-fold greater than this will not fail us, which is that noted by St. Jerome, 
Lib. 3. in Math.  He who for our Saviour's sake leaves carnal things, shall receive spiritual, which in comparison and value are, as if some small number were compared with a hundred. We seek the goods of the earth for the ease and content of life. But if this may better and with more advantage be acquired by the contempt and leaving them, what can we desire more? Certainly he who quits all for Christ, enjoys a hundred times more content and pleasure than he who flows in the greatest riches and abundance; for (according to what hath been said) the goods of this life are tedious and troublesome even to life itself: so the freedom from those cares and incommodities, which accompany them, eases the heart, and makes our life more sweet and pleasant. Whereupon St. chrysostom notes, That as the Children in the midst of the fiery furnace in Babylon were refreshed by a cool wind and pleasant dew, to those, who are in poverty (which the holy Scripture calls a furnace) are recreated by a gentle air from heaven, and the dew of the holy Spirit: and that in so high a manner, as St. Bernard speaking of the Monks of Claraval, says, That they drew from their Poverty, Fasts, and austere Penances such joy and spiritual comfort, that they were jealous, and afraid, lest God had given them their whole and complete reward in this world: and it seemed unto them, that having their heaven in this life, they should lose it in that to come. Whereupon it was necessary for St. Bernard to prove unto them in one of his Sermons, That he did injure the grace of the holy Spirit, who placed grief in what it communicated. Certainly the Servants of God are highly rewarded, since they receive even in this life such celestial joys for those temporal trifles, which they have quitted. If one for a certain weight of Copper were to receive the like in Gold, 
Cassian. Sup.  I believe he would think he had made a good bargain. The like exchange they make, who receive those spiritual joys for the pleasures of the earth. 
In Histor. Cistere.  This is fully verified in that which happened unto Arnulphus the Cistercian, who being rich, noble, and abounding with all, which the world esteems, moved by the Sermons of St. Bernard, became a Monk in the Monastery of Claraval, where after a holy life led in much rigour and austerity, he at last became very infirm, and through the great grief and pains, which he suffered, would often fall into faintings and sounding trances: but still, when he recovered from his fits, would cry out, It is true, it is true, which thou hast said, O blessed Jesus. And to some present, who thought the extremity of pain did make him rave, he would say, Brethren, I have spoken this in my right judgement and senses; for that which our Lord promised in the Gospel, That he, who for his sake should leave Father, Mother, or Goods, should receive a hundred fold, and hereafter life eternal, I now find true by experience: For this grief and pain, which I feel, is so sweet unto me out of the hope I have of eternal happiness, that I would not lose these pains and this hope not only for what I have left already, but for a hundred times more. And if to me, who am so great a sinner, those pains, which I deserve, are a hundred times more sweet than any former power and pleasures in the world, What are they to a just man, and to the zealous and devout religious? By this it evidently appears, that spiritual joy, though but in hope, affords a thousand times more pleasure and content, than the possession of all the carnal and temporal delights in the world. At what this Servant of God said, all who were present remained astonished, that an ignorant man wholly unlettered should understand and speak of so high matters.  

§. 2.  
The joy of the poor in Christ Jesus, who have renounced all for his love, springs from two causes; First from that content, which Poverty itself by its freedom from temporal troubles and the imbroilments of life brings along with it. And this even the Gentiles confessed. And therefore Apuleius called it Merry and and cheerful Poverty. And Seneca would say, That a Turf of earth gave a sounder sleep, than Wool died in Tyrian Purple. And Anaxagoras, (taught by experience) That he found more content in sleeping upon the Earth, and feeding upon Herbs, than in Down Beds and delicious Banquets accompanied with an unquiet mind. The second cause of this joy is not the nature of poverty, but the particular grace of God, who rewards them with the pleasures of heaven, who have renounced those of earth, and fills with spiritual riches those, who have left the temporal. For in truth poverty is much beloved and privileged by Christ: and therefore he rewards the poor even in this life with many particular graces and favours.  
Besides this, the many and great commodities, which this contempt of earthly things brings along with it, may serve as a reward equivalent to a hundred, yea a thousand-fold. For if all the world were given to escape the committing of one sin, it were not an equal value; and by Evangelical poverty and contempt of the world the sins, which we avoid, are innumerable. For by it we not only pluck up the root, but quit the instruments of sinning. Take away abundance, and you take away insolence, arrogance, and pride, which spring from it, as smoke from fire; you take away also the means of committing many other sins, which riches feed and nourish. Neither is the attaining of many virtues, which accompany Poverty, as Humility, Modesty, and Temperance, of less value than the avoidance of those sins. And therefore it is a great truth, 
Homil. 8. in Ep. ad Hebr.  which Saint chrysostom notes and ponders, That in Poverty we possess Virtues more easily. Neither is it slightly to be valued, That the state of Poverty assists much toward our satisfaction for those sins we have committed, according to what is spoken to the just man by Isaias the Prophet; I have chosen thee (that is I have purified thee) in the furnace of poverty. It is likewise a great matter to be free and uninterressed in the base and unprofitable employments of the earth, whereby the poor have time to exercise virtue, to converse with God and his Angels, and contemplate Eternity.  
The honour also and dignity to command these things below, which is attained by the poor in spirit, may well be valued at a hundred-fold. For as it is a great baseness in the rich to be slaves to their avarice, and to things so vile as riches: So it is a great honour to the poor to exempt themselves from this slavery and servitude, and to lord it over all; and, as the Apostle says, by contemning all to possess all; so as there is no Riches, no Kingdom comparable to this of Poverty. Kingdoms have their limits and boundeties, which they pass not; but this Kingdom of Poverty is not straightened by any bounds: but for the same reason, that it hath nothing, hath all things; for the heart cannot be said to possess any thing without being Lord of it: and it cannot be Lord of it without being superior unto it, and not that, unless it subject and subjugate it unto itself. So as it is by so much more a possessor, by how much it is more Lord and Superior. Now he who desires to be rich, must needs love those things, without which he cannot be rich: nor can he love them without care, solicitude, and slavery; but he who contemns them, is not only Lord, but Possessor of them. And for this cause St. John Climacus said very well, 
Grad. 17.  That the poor religious person, who casts all his care upon God, is Lord of all the world, and all men are his Servants. Moreover the true love of poverty doth not basely cleave unto these temporal things; for all it hath or can have it respects nothing; and if it want any thing, it is no more troubled, than if it wanted so much dung and dirt.  
But above all rewards is that of God, who is possessed by poverty: 
In Psal. 118.  and in St. Ambrose his opinion is that hundred-fold, which is received for what we leave. For as the Tribe of Levy, which had no part in the distribution of the Land of Palestine, received this promise from God, that he would be their Share and Possession of inheritance: So with much reason unto those, who voluntarily refuse their parts in the goods of the earth, God himself becomes their possession, riches, and all good even in this world; and passes so much further as to give them in the other the Kingdom of Heaven. 
Aug. Ser. 28. de Ver. Apost.  Whereupon St. Austin speaks in this manner. Great happiness and felicity is that of a Christian, who with the rich price of poverty purchases the precious reward of glory. Wilt thou see how rich and precious it is? The poor man buys and obtains that by poverty, which the rich man cannot with all his treasures. And it was certainly a most high counsel in our Lord God, and an act worthy of his divine understanding to make Poverty the price of his Glory, that none might want wherewith to purchase it. Wherefore many of the Saints have been so enamoured of Poverty, that they have purchased it with more eagerness, than the rich have fled from it, and have had this advantage over them, to be more voluntarily poor, than the other could be rich.    

CAP. VIII.  
Many who have despised and renounced all that is Temporal.  
SO evident is the baseness of temporal goods, and the mischiefs they occasion in humane life so apparent, that many Philosophers without the light of faith or doctrine of the Son of God were not ignorant of it; and many so deeply apprehended the importance not only of contemning, but renouncing of riches, that they lived most contentedly in great poverty and moderation. Aristides, although a principal person in Athens, was so affected to poverty, that he always went in a course broken Garment, hungry and necessitated; and though he had a friend of great wealth called Clinias, could never be persuaded to accept the least relief from him. It happened that this Clinias being accused before the Judges, to aggravate his other crimes, it was laid in his dish, that being rich and able, he had not assisted his friend Aristides. Clinias perceiving the Judges to be highly incensed, and all men to cry out against his inhumanity, went to Aristides, and desired him to defend him from that false calumny, and to satisfy the Judges and people how often he had offered his wealth and fortunes to serve him, and that it was he himself, who had still refused it. Aristides did so; and informed the Judges of the innocence of his friend, and that it was his own desire rather to live in his own poverty, than to brave it in the riches of another; saying withal, That rich men, who misspent their fortunes, were every where to be found, but few who passed their poverty and want of necessaries with a generous mind; which so soon as he had declared, There was none present, who envied not more the poverty and beggary of Aristides, then wished the wealth of Clinias. Zeno, as St. Gregory Nazianzen and Seneca write, when news was brought him, That he had lost all, answered, I see that Fortune will have me henceforward profess the life of a Philosopher with less difficulty. Valerius Maximus reports of Anaxagoras, that when he received the like news, all he said was, If my goods had not perished, I had. Cato reports of Crates the Theban, that he fling his substance into the Sea, saying, It is better I drown you, than you me. Diogenes left all he had but a wooden Dish: and by chance seeing one drink out of the hollow of his hand, broke that also. Laertius writes, that one scoffing at Aeschines a Philosopher of Rhodes, said, By the Gods, Aeschines, I am sorry to see thee so poor; who answered, By the same Gods, I pity thee for having so great riches, which thou hast gotten with trouble, preservest with care, spendest with grief, keepest with danger, defendest with a thousand fears and passions; and which is worst of all, Where are thy riches, there is thy heart.  
This point is singularly well handled by St. John chrysostom in his second Book against the despisers of a Monastic life, 
Chrys. Lib. 2. con. Vituper. Vitae Monast.  which he dedicates to the Philosophers of the Gentiles, wherein he only uses such reasons, as may be apprehended by the light of nature, comparing Plato with Dionysius, Socrates with Archelaus, and Diogenes with Alexander; all which he makes much more glorious in their poverty, than the others in all their power and Dominions. He relates also that of Epaminondas the Theban, who being called to a certain Council, could not come, because his Cloak was in washing, and he had no other to wear: and yet was more esteemed and reverenced by the Greeks, than any of their Princes; from whence the holy Doctor infers, That when there was no Evangelical Law, nor Examples of Saints, yet in natural reason, and by natural testimonies Poverty was of high esteem and dignity. This being so, as certainly it is, what can we say, but that is not Poverty, which we call so, but great and true Riches?  

§. 2.  
It is much to our confusion, that the Gentiles should so far despise temporal goods, not being guided by that faith of Eternity, which we profess; The which gives so great a light unto the discovery of that distance, which is betwixt the one and the other, that many, whom it hath enlightened with the beams of truth, have not only despised what the world holds in esteem, but have sought and embraced the contrary, rejoicing in poverty, ignominy, and austerities, performing such actions to this effect, as have not fallen under imagination; whereof I shall here relate some admirable Histories, and will begin with that of Mark of Alexandria, which we find written in certain Greek Commentaries. 
Ex Cod. M. S. Graec. Biblioth. Vid. Raderum 2. P. opuse. sui Viridar. c. 3. pa. 79.  The Abbot Daniel going with his Disciples unto Alexandria, beheld there, in company of other fools, this Mark, who went wholly naked, but where modesty required something to cover him, distributing what was given him with many sottish gestures amongst the other fools his companions. The prudent Abbot seriously marking him, presently found by that spirit of trial, wherewith the Lord had endued him, that this folly was Celestial wisdom; and therefore meeting him the next day in one of the public Market-places, he endeavoured to detain him, that he might speak with him, but, he still counterfeiting the fool, strove all he could to get lose and run away from him, insomuch as the Venerable old man was fain to cry unto those, who were present, to assist him: who, seeing a Monk struggle with a Fool, cried out as fast to him, to beware of the Madman. At last some Priests and ecclesiastics, who knew the Abbot, passing by, asked him, What he had to do with the Fool, and what he would with him: Unto whom he answered, If you desire to know, bring him before the Patriarch, and let him examine what he is. They did so, but Mark would neither answer nor speak a word, until the Patriarch commanded him under an oath to declare Who he was, and what were his intentions. Then the counterfeit Fool, forced by this adjuration to leave off his dissembling, confessed he had been a grievous sinner, and had continued in dishonesty of life fifteen years, but by the goodness of God repenting his sins, he had resolved to perform as many years of penance, and had in a place convenient for the purpose spent eight of them; but desiring to pass the rest of them in greater rigour and austerity, he came to Alexandria, there to be treated in that manner as they had seen him, in which he had now continued other eight years. Those who were present could not out of tenderness refrain tears, and were much edified at the extraordinary ways, by which the spirit of God recalls those, whom he hath chosen. But their admiration was much increased, when the next day the Abbot Daniel having sent his Disciple unto Mark to visit him, and to advise him to return to the silence and solitariness of his Cell, he found him dead, and that he had already rendered his soul unto his Creator. Unto whose Interrement all the Monks and Priests of Alexandria, with an incredible number of the People, repaired, praising the Lord for the marvelous works of his providence, that whom he had chosen to be despised and contemned in life, he had in this manner preserved to be honoured in death. Who sees in not this admirable man a high contempt and renunciation of those three kinds of goods, which the world so much esteems? He so despised Riches, as he had not a garment or rag to cover his nakedness. He so much contemned Honour, that to the end he might be more humbled and scornned, he conversed with fools, and made himself one of them; and so renounced all Pleasures, that he persevered in perpetual fasts, forsaking and giving away his food amongst his companions.  

Ex M. S. Graec. Hist. Patrum.  Let us now relate another story of equal fortitude in the contempt of the world, but in a weaker sex. In Thabenna upon the banks of the river Nilus, in a Monastery of 300 Virgins consecrated to God, there was amongst them one, called Isidora, scorned, despised, and held for a fool by all the rest: the which so nourished that opinion, and in such manner shown herself distracted, that she did not for all this forbear so to exercise the works of charity, and humiliation towards the others, as if she were a slave to each one of them. Her employment was commonly in the Kitchen, where she made clean and washed the dishes. The others upon no occasion would sometimes buffet her, call her fool, sot, and madwoman: whereat she either held her peace or laughed like some simple Ninny, by which art she freed herself from sitting with the rest in the Refectory, not eating any thing, but the scraps and remainder of others. She went always barefoot, with her head covered with some dirty cloth; and although she were the scorn of all, yet she was never heard to speak any thing in her own defence, or show the least resentment of any thing they did unto her. 
Pallad. c. 42. de S. Pitirum.  At the same time there lived in Porphirite that great man of penance, and of equal fame and goodness, called Pitirum, unto whom an Angel appeared, and said, Thou hast little reason to glory in thy so many year's austerity and observance of a religious life. Come and thou shalt see a Maid more holy than thyself. Go to the Convent of the religious in Thabenna, amongst whom thou shalt find one with a Diadem, (so the Angel called that foul cloth, which the humble Virgin, that she might be more despised, wore about her head.) Know, said the Angel, that this Maid is better than thyself, her patience is daily exercised by a number of women, she is despised, scorned, and treated as if she were a dog, and yet permits not her thoughts to be troubled or distracted from God by any thing: And thou being here alone sufferest thy thoughts to wander up and down the whole world. Which said, the Angel departed; And the Abbot Pitirum at the same time, in compliance with what was commanded, went towards the place appointed, and being so famed for sanctity, easily obtained leave to see the Monastery. And the Abbess and all the Nuns came forth to enjoy the comfort of seeing so singular a man for sanctity, as also to receive the benediction of the Bishop, who with one of his Deacons accompanied him. The Abbot not perceiving her amongst the rest whom he sought for, demanded if none of the Religious were wanting: and they answering, None, replied, It is impossible; for I see not her, whom the Angel of the Lord shown me. Whereupon they said, There only wanted one, who was a fool, and remained in the Kitchin. The Abbot commanded her instantly to be fetched, which with much ado (she resisting all was possible) they did by force. The holy Abbot instantly knowing her by that covering, which the Angel called a Diadem, fell prostrate at her feet, saying, Mother, I beseech thee bless me, and by thy holy prayers recommend me unto our Lord. The other religious astonished at the accident said, Take heed, Father, what you do; This is a fool and deprived of her senses. To whom the Abbot, It is you are fools; This is wiser than you or I; and I would to God that at the day of Judgement I might be found in as happy a condition as she. The Nuns amazed at what they heard, kneeling at the feet of the Abbot demanded pardon for the injuries they had done unto the servant of God, confessing their faults: One, the scoffing at her manner of clothing, Another, her buffetting her, Another, her flinging water in her face, Another, her plucking her by the Nose. In fine, none but had done her some affront or other. Whereupon the Abbot returned home much comforted, and the religious from thence forward gave her such respect, as was due unto her virtues. But she, not enduring to be so much honoured and esteemed, left the Monastery, (for then enclosure was not of obligation, as now it is,) and went to some other place, where she might be more despised, at least her virtues not so much known. Who sees not here the world trodden under foot by this religious Virgin, who lived with such content, humiliation, and patience in the midst of so much poverty, esteeming herself happy in being a slave and scorned by all?  

Nissen. in vita Thaumaturgi.  Admirable likewise is that Story related by St. Gregory of Nessen of a certain Philosopher, called Alexander; who being very beautiful of face, and of a goodly▪ stature and presence, yet knowing by the light of faith, which perfects Philosophy, the vanity of the things of this World and their danger, was resolved (despising himself and those gifts of nature) to live in labour and humility; And that his beautiful face might neither be occasion of sinning to himself nor others, he went unto the City of Comana, and made himself a Collier, hoping thereby either to be altogether unknown, or at least forgotten. There he remained a long time, all tattered in apparel, and his face so besooted, as he seemed as if he were a coal himself: insomuch as he was esteemed the most vile and despicable person of the whole City. It happened that (their Bishop being at the same time dead) St. Gregory Thaumaturgus came thither, entreated by the Citizens to bestow a Bishop upon them; whereupon the people presented unto him the most noble and learned persons of their City, that he might out of that number make choice of whom he pleased. But the Saint advised them, that for so great a dignity, as that of Bishop, they should not only look upon those parts, which shine and appear glorious in the world, but upon virtue and sanctity: and that therefore they should also present unto him others, although of a meaner condition. To whom some in a scoffing way replied, If such people be fit to be made Bishops, let us propose Alexander the Collier: it seeming unto them, that there was not in all the City a meaner or a more contemptible person than he. The Bishop moved by God, hearing him named, commanded him to be called, And made him Bishop: Our Lord causing him, who despised himself, to be honoured of others, and placed him, who was hidden and covered under his own lowness and humility, upon the Candlestick of his Church. And he after proved so excellent a Bishop, and so perfect a follower of Christ, that he came to give his blood for his holy name, joining to the Crown of a most holy life the Laurel of martyrdom.  
No less wonderful was that contempt of the world in Simeon Sales, 
Evagrius lib. 4. coll. 33.  who living, as it is reported by Leontius and Evagrius, in great poverty and contempt, covered as much as he could his fasts, large hours of prayer which he spent with God; And to that end, when he was in public, endeavoured so to behave himself, as all men might take him for a fool and a distracted madman, without the appearance of any virtue at all: so as he was often seen to enter Taverns, and when after his great fasts his hunger caused him to eat, he would feed openly in the Streets upon vile and coarse meats: and if any of understanding by chance looked more narrowly into his way of living, as suspecting that, what he did, might be to conceal his virtues, so soon as he had the least inkling of it, he would presently departed to some other place, where he might be free from knowledge or esteem. It happened in a certain place where he was, that one finding a Maid with child, and urging her to confess who had deflowered her, she to conceal the offender, laid it upon Simeon the Fool (for so they called him.) He contradicted it not, but was contented for Christ's sake to bear the infamy, until God was pleased, that the true Father of the Child should be discovered; and in the mean time had so much charity towards her, who had laid that scandal upon him, that, she being in great necessity and infirm of her childbirth, he secretly brought her to eat. But our Lord at last made him venerable to the whole world, who had made himself a fool to gain the wisdom of Heaven.  
There are many also who to avoid the opinion of Saints, and the honour which the people gave them, have done things extraordinary, and such as in the eyes of men seemed unworthy. 
Gra. 25. §. 1.  St. John Climacus writes, that blessed Father Simeon understanding that the Governor of the Province came to visit him as a man famous for sanctity, took a piece of bread and cheese in his hand, and sitting at the door of his Cell, eat it in that ravenous and odd manner, that he seemed out of his wits; and the Governor conceiving him to be so, contemned him and returned home. There lived also in the inner part of the Desert a Venerable old man, unto whom a Disciple had associated himself to learn his sanctity and serve him. Upon the fame of his holy life a certain man repaired unto him, and with tears in his eyes besought him, he would come unto his house and pray for his Son, who was grievously sick. The Hermit was content to go along with him; but the Father of the Child made haste before, that he might in company of his Neighbours return and meet him, and so receive him with more honour. No sooner did the old man perceive him a fare off in this equipage, but presently imagining what the matter meant, he stripped himself, and plunging into a River close by, began to bathe himself. His Disciple being much ashamed of this light action, wished the people to return home, For the old man was out of his wits; And going to his Master, said; Father, what is it thou hast done? all those, who saw thee, thought thou wert possessed. To whom the holy man answered: It is well; It is that which I desired.   

§. 3.  
Amongst those, who with Evangelical poverty have embraced the contempt of the world, many have been great Lords, Princes, Kings, and Emperors. Amongst the Almains their Prince Charles is the most famous, who being rich, and highly esteemed for his glorious actions, touched with the desire of heavenly things left all to his Brother Pepin, came to Rome, built a Monastery upon the Mount St. Silvester, and there remained sometime a Monk; but being much troubled with the many visits of the City, which was at hand, and his retirement disquieted, he left it, and went to Mont-Cassino, where he was received by Petronace the Abbot, and there lived with great joy and content: and profited so much in the exercises of humility, that it is written in the Annals of the Monastery, that the Abbot appointed him to take care of the Flock: which mean office he executed with as great cheerfulness, as if he had governed a Kingdom as before; and one of his Ewes by chance falling lame, he was seen to carry her home upon his shoulders, a King not disdaining so mean a service. We know also in our Spain, that King Bamba, after he had reigned eleven years, and performed many brave actions, deprived the Pirates of Africa of 200 Ships, and taken Paul their King, (who went against the King of France) prisoner, The last of his glorious actions was, to close himself up in a Monastery, where he lived seven years in great observance of Religion, and died the year 674; And was after in 786 imitated by Bermudus King of Castille. There is scarce any Province of Christendom, wherein some Prince hath not renounced his temporal Kingdom for gaining the eternal: instructing us, that true greatness consists in humbling ourselves for Christ, and true riches in being poor both in will and deed.  
But not to enlarge myself too far in recounting the Stories of those many Princes, who have known how to exchange their temporal Riches for an eternal Kingdom, I will content myself with relating one, which includes many examples. 
Cantiprat. l. 2. c. 10. p. 2. Hen. Gran. d. 5. Ex. 25.  Thomas de Cantiprato witnesses, that in his time died St. Matilda, Daughter to the King of Scots, who had four Brothers. The first, being a Duke, desiring to become poor for Christ's sake, left his wife and fortunes, and forsook his Country. The second bidding also farewell unto the world, became an Hermit. The third was an Archbishop, who quitting his Bishopric entered into the Order of the Cistercians. The fourth, named Alexander, was the youngest of all his Brothers, and being now arrived at sixteen years of age, his Father would have compelled him to take the Government of the Kingdom upon him; Which being understood by his Sister Matilda, who was twenty years old, she called him aside, and spoke unto him in this manner. My most sweet Brother, what is that thou meanest to do? Thy elder Brothers have forsaken the things of the Earth to gain those of Heaven, and wilt thou to gain this Temporal Kingdom, which they have left, lose that which is eternal, and thy own Soul? Alexander, his eyes becoming fountains of tears, answered her in this manner. Sister, what is it you advise me? I am ready to execute your commands without varying in the least circumstance. The holy Maid glad of his resolution changed her habit, and both of them secretly leaving their Country came into France. There she taught her Brother how to order a Dairy, milk Cows, and make Cheeses, and after found a way to have him received into a certain Grange of the Cistercians, where he performed this office to such satisfaction of the Monks, that in a short time he was admitted amongst them a Lay-Brother. His Sister Matilda seeing him thus placed, said one day unto him; Brother, certainly a great reward attends us from the Lord, for having thus left our Parents and our Country for the love of him. But we shall receive a far greater, if for the short time of our lives we deprive ourselves even of this content of seeing one another: and that we so give ourselves over to that Divine and Sovereign Majesty, that we meet no more, until we meet in Heaven, where we shall see and converse one with another in true and eternal comfort. Here the Brother fell a weeping, apprehending this as the greatest difficulty he had hitherto encountered in the whole course of his life. But at last he mastered it, and they both parted never to see one another more upon earth. The holy Virgin went unto a certain Town nine miles distant, where she lived retired in a little Cottage, and sustained herself wholly by the labour of her hands, admitting neither present nor alms. Her Bed was the ground or little better; she eat upon her knees, and in that posture spent many hours in prayer: wherein she often was so rapt from her senses, that she neither heard the noise of thunder, nor perceived the flashes of lightning. Alexander was never known whilst he lived. But St. Matilda was nine years before her death: and therefore attempted often to have left the place; but was so strictly watched, she could not. She wrought many miracles both during her life and after death. A certain Monk sick of an Imposthume in his breast offered up his prayers at the Tomb of Alexander; and to him the Servant of God appeared more resplendent than the Sun, adorned with two most beautiful Crowns; The one of which he wore upon his head: The other he carried in his hand; And being demanded of the Monk, what those two Crowns signified, he answered, This which I bear in my hands is given me for that temporal Kingdom which I forsook upon earth; The other of my head is that which is commonly given to all the Saints of Heaven. And that thou mayest give credit to what thou hast seen in this Vision, thou shalt find thyself according to thy faith cured of thy infirmity. In this manner God honours those, who humble themselves for his glory.    

CAP. IX.  
The love, which we own unto God, ought so to fill our Souls, that it leave no place or power to love the Temporal.  
WE have already produced sufficient motives and reasons to breed in us a contempt of the things of this world, and to wean our affections from them, as well for being in themselves vile, transitory, mutable, little, and dangerous, as for that the Son of God hath done and suffered so much to the end we should despise them. I will only now add for the conclusion of this matter, That, though they were of some real worth or value, (as they are not,) yet for all this we ought not to love them, since so great is that love and affection, which is due from us unto God, that it ought so fully to fill and possess our hearts, that it leave no room for any other affection than itself. For if it were commanded in the Law, when men had not the obligation which we now have, (the Son of God not having then died for our redemption) that we should love him with all our heart, all our soul, and all our powers: how are we to love him, when our debt is so much greater, and that we have a further knowledge of his divine goodness? If then there ought to be no place for any love but his, how can we now turn our eyes unto the creature, or set our hearts upon it, when a million of hearts are not sufficient for our Creator? There is no one Title for which God is amiable, but upon that title we own him a thousand wills, a thousand loves, and all what we are, or can be; What do we then own him for all together? Consider his benefits, his love, his goodness, and thou shalt see, that though thou hadst as many hearts as there are sands upon the Seashore, or atoms in the Air, all were not capable of that great love, which is due unto him. How canst thou then divide this one heart, which thou hast, amongst so many creatures? Consider also the multitude and greatness of his divine blessings, and deal but with God, as one man doth with another. If we say of humane benefits, that gifts break rocks, how comes it that divine benefits do not move a heart of flesh? 
Prov. 22.  And if, as Solomon says, Those who give gifts steal the hearts of the receivers, how comes it that God robs not thee of thy soul, who not only gives thee gifts, but himself for a gift? Consider the benefits thou didst receive in thy Creation; They were as many as thou hast members of thy body, or faculties of thy soul. Consider those of thy Conservation; Thou hast received as many, as there are distinct natures in Heaven and in Earth. The Elements, Stars, and the whole world were created for thy preservation, without which thou couldst not subsist. Look upon the benefits. of thy Redemption; They are as many as are the evils of Hell, from which they have freed thee. Look upon those of thy Justification; they are as many as the Sacraments, which Christ hath instituted, and the examples which he hath left thee. Think what thou owest him for having made thee a Christian, pardoned thee so often, and given thee still fresh grace to renew thee. All these and a thousand other benefits and obligations demand and sue for thy love. And not only these benefits from God, but even those from men cry out unto thee to love him; For there is no benefit which thou receivest from man, but comes from God. On all parts then, and for all things thou art obliged to love God; for it is he who does thee good in all, and is worth unto thee more than all. How comes it then, that, since he hath done all this for us, we yet think not what we are to do for him, nor how we shall express our thankfulness for such and so great benefits? David was troubled with this care when he said, What shall I return unto the Lord for all which he hath given me? And yet the Lord had not then given him the Body and blood of his Son, nor had his Son then been born or died for him. Since than he hath done all this for us, why do we not study how we may be grateful for such infinite and unspeakable mercies? But what can we return which we have not received? Let us deliver him back our souls, hearts, and bodies: looking upon ourselves hence forward, as on a thing not ours but his, acknowledging that we own him more than what we are, or can do. So shall we not debase our love by placing it upon the creatures.  
If we shall then consider the infinite love which God bears us, we shall find that we have no love left to bestow upon any thing but him, no not upon ourselves. To know truly the greatness of this divine love, we are to suppose that true and perfect Love consists much in action, but is most apparent in patience and suffering, and also in communication of its proper goods unto those whom it loves. See then how great is his love, who hath wrought such stupendious works for thee, as are his Incarnation and thy Redemption: and continues still until this hour working for thy good after a thousand ways in all his creatures, making the Corn to grow which is to feed thee, the Wool to increase which is to  thee, supports the Sun which is to enlighten thee, draws Waters from the veins of the earth to quench thy thirst, and in every thing still operates for thee. Consider how he gives a being unto the Elements, life to Plants, sense to Beasts, understanding to Angels, and all to thee, working in thee alone all which he works in the other degrees of nature. How apparent then is the love of God in his works, who does so great things for the good of man, who deserves to be forsaken by him, and reduced to nothing? Consider then the excess of love in his patience, who hath endured such cruel torments, and so painful a death for thee, and hath born with thee as often as thou hast offended him; And if patience be a trial of love, where shall we find so great an example? How excessive were that love, if a King, who after his Vassal had a thousand times attempted to murder him, should not only pardon, but continue still to favour and enrich him with his own Rents and Revenues? who would not be amazed at such a love, and think that King infatuated? O goodness and longaminity of God, who suffers us a thousand times to turn again and crucify thee our Redeemer, the King of Glory, and art still silent! Behold also his love in communicating all the good he hath unto us. The Father delivers up his only Son, the Son his Body and Blood for us, and they both together send the Holy Ghost, by whom we are by grace made partakers of the Divine Nature. See if a more great, more real, or more tender love than this can be imagined, wherein he shares with us all he has, and gives us all he can. And if love be to be paid with love, what love dost thou owe him? See if thou hast an affection yet free to be employed upon any but thy Lover and thy God. Requite then this excess of good will by having no other will but his, and answer his love with a love like his, of works and patience. Our Lord is not content we should only love him with our tongues, but reprehends those, who cry unto him, Lord, Lord, and do not what he commands: For even good words, if they want works, are condemned as false and feigned. Let us love him then in earnest; let us suffer for him, and communicate with him all we have. Let us not think to come off with this love gratis; it is to cost us all is ours. If we love our God truly, who so much loved us, we must resolve to lose honours, wealth, and pleasure in serving and requiting him.  
Above all, if we consider him to be God, who is infinitely beautiful, good, wise, powerful, eternal, immense, immutable, there is no heart possible, which can equal the love, which he deserves for any one of those Divine Attributes. What shall then his whole infinity deserve, which eminently contains all the beauties and perfections of his Creatures either real or imaginable? for all are but as a drop in respect of an immense Ocean; all depend upon God, who so communicates his beauties and perfections to the Creatures, as they still remain in himself after a more excellent manner, and in such sort distributes them, as he parts not from them, but unites them all in one simple perfection. From whence, as from a fountain, all that is good flows, and is yet still in the Original in a more high and transcendent manner. And if men (as the wise man says) admiring the beauty of some creatures, adored them as Gods, let them hence understand how beautiful is the Lord of all things, since he who made them is the Author and Father of Beauty; And if they wonder at their force and virtue in their operations, let them know, that he who made them is more powerful than they; And by the beauty and greatness of the created, let the understanding climb to the knowledge of the Creator: and hence collect, that if the effect be good, the cause must needs be so too; for nothing can give what it hath not; And therefore he who made things so beautiful, and so good, cannot choose but be most beautiful and most excellently good himself. So as if the imagination should join in one piece all the good, and all the perfection of all creatures possible or imaginable, yet God were infinitely more perfect and more beautiful than that.  
From hence it follows, that as God is infinitely perfect and beautiful, so he must be infinitely amiable; and if infinitely amiable, we are to love him with an infinite love: so as if the capacity of our heart were infinite, it were wholly to be employed in loving him. How can we then, since our hearts are limited, and the object infinite, spare any part of it for the things of this life? Besides, such is the loveliness of God, that we are not to love ourselves, but because he loves us; and if we are not to love ourselves but for his sake, how are we diverted to love other things for their own sake? O infinite God how do I rejoice that thou art so good, so perfect, so beautiful, the source and original of all beauty and perfection, as that I ought not only to withdraw my love and affection from all other creatures, but even from myself, and place it wholly upon thee, from whom my being, and all the good I have is derived, as the beams from the Sun, or water from the Fountain. For as the conservation of the rays, according to a mystic Doctor, depends more upon the Sun than upon themselves, and the current of the stream more from the Fountain than itself: In such manner the good of man depends wholly upon God, who is the Spring and Fountain of all his good and perfection; from whence it follows, that man, when he relies upon himself, is sure to fall, and when he loves himself, loses himself, but flying and abhorring himself preserves himself, according to what is written in the holy Gospel, He who loves bis life shall lose it, and he who hates it in this world shall gain it for ever. Hence it comes, that we are now no more to look upon our selves as upon a thing of our own but only Gods, depending both in our spiritual and corporal being from that infinite Ocean of being and perfection. Hence the Soul, finding itself now free and unfettered, flies unto God with all its forces and affections, not finding any thing to love and please it but in him, in whom the beauty and perfections of all creatures are contained with infinite advantages. When one hath once arrived unto this estate, how dissonant and various soever his works be, the end, which he pretends, is still the same, and he ever obtains what he pretends, if shutting his eyes to all creatures as if they were not, he looks at nothing but God, and how to please his Divine goodness, and that only for itself. It may be, that looking at the particular ends of each work, our actions may be in several conditions; sometimes they are in beginning, sometimes in the midst, sometimes in the end, and oftentimes by impediments and cross accidents, which happen, they acquire not what they aim at; but look upon the intention of him who works, and they are still in their end: For in what condition soever the work be, he who does it with this intention only to please God, is ever in his end, which no bad success or contradiction can hinder. According to this which hath been said, it is a great matter by Divine light to have arrived at this knowledge, That all goods and gifts descend from above, and that there is an infinite power, goodness, wisdom, mercy, and beauty, from whence these properties, which are here below participated by the creatures with such limitation, are derived. It is a great matter to have discovered the Sun by his rays, and guiding ourselves by the stream to have arrived at the Fountain's head, or to have found the Centre, where the multiplicity of created perfections meet and unite in one. There our love shall rest as having nothing further to seek; And this is to love God with all the heart, all the soul, all the mind●, and all the powers. And as those, who arrive at this happy state, have no other care, no other thought, than to do the will of God here upon earth with the same perfection it is done in heaven: So they have no other desires, than by leaving earth to enter heaven, there by fulfilling wholly the Divine will, to supply what was defective upon earth. Nothing detains them here but the will of God; they have nothing begun which is not ended; they are ever prepared; all their business is dispatched, like those servants, who are always expecting their Lord, and still ready to open the door, when he shall call. Let us then prepare ourselves by withdrawing our love from all which is temporal and created: and placing it upon our Creator, who is eternal, let us love him, not with a delicate and an effeminate love, but with a strong and manly affection, such a one as will support any weight, overcome any difficulty, and despise any interest rather than be separated from our beloved, break his Laws, or offend him though never so lightly. Let this Love be strong as death, that it may look death in the face, and not fly from it: which when it suffers, it conquers. Let thy fire be so enkindled▪ that if whole rivers of tribulations fall upon it, they may be but like drops of water falling upon a forge, which the flame drinks up and consumes, and is not quenched, but quickened by them. Be above thyself, and above all that is below; And if the world offer thee all, it is Mistress of, to despoil thee of this love, tread it under thy feet, and despise it as nothing.  
To this love it belongs, To accommodate one's self to poverty, Not to repine at hunger, nakedness, cold or heat, who as companions go along with it, To suffer injuries meekly, To bear sickness and infirmities patiently, Not to be dismayed in persecutions, To endure temptations with longanimity, To bear the burdens of our neighbours cheerfully, Not to be tired with their thwart conditions, Not to be angry at their neglects, nor overcome by their ingratitude, In spiritual drynesses not to leave our ordinary devotions, and in consolations and spiritual gusts not to forbear our obligations: Finally, that we may say with St. Paul, 
Rom. 8.  Who shall separate us from the charity of Christ? tribulation? or distress? or famine? or nakedness? or danger? or persecution? or the sword? I am sure, that neither death, nor life, nor Angels, nor Principalities, nor Powers, neither things present, nor things to come, neither might, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.    
FINIS.