Golden Remains OF Sir GEORGE FREMAN, Knight of the Honourable Order OF THE BATH.  
BEING CHOICE DISCOURSES ON Select Subjects.  
LONDON, Printed by J. M. and are to be sold by Henry Bonwicke, at the Red-Lyon in St Paul's Churchyard, 1682.   

PREFACE.  
THE great charity the Author had for souls (lest any should take example by seeing him drink) and the desire he had of making what restitution he could, was the reason he desired me to set out his Treatise against Drinking after his Death. And as I who was constantly with him must needs know him better than any other; so I think myself obliged to do him that right, as to let the world know he was not the Man they generally took him for. I can justly say I never knew any one of a more tender Conscience: after he had been in company, if upon inquiry into himself he found he had committed a sin in drinking too much, or done any thing he thought extravagant, he would very much lament himself, and hath sent for the company he was with, and given them good advice, persuading them to a holy life. He has made resolutions to drink nothing but small Beer, which he hath kept till the violence of his fits seized on him so severely, that he has been forced to drink some Wine to relieve him from them; but hath been extremely troubled, and said to me, what a miserable condition am I in, that these fits should force me to that I would fain quite cast off; and would take it with great caution, and say, Lord give a blessing so far as I may lawfully pray. For his Family Duties, he was careful there should be Prayers morning and evening. For some time he had a Minister in the House which said the Church Prayers twice a day; when he was gone, he performed the duty himself: and when he was not able by reason of his illness, he ordered one of his Sons to do it. Several times when he rose from Prayers, he would give his Servants good instructions: And when he could not go to Church by reason of the violence of his Fits, he would speak to me to take care that his Children and Servants went; and bid me tell them the reason why he did not go, lest they should take example by his staying away, which he said he would never do if it pleased God he had his health. It was his constant practice before he went abroad, though it was never so little a way, first to go to his Prayers and beg a blessing of God. For his Charity in giving Alms, he had bowels of mercy, he seldom gave Alms but he shed tears of compassion for their misery: And when they returned thanks in praying for him, he would say to me, they do me much more good by their prayers, than I can do them with my Alms: What a mercy it is that I have so much plenty who deserve no more than they! On the Lord's day he had many of the Poor dined with his Servants, which he would speak to with a friendly kindness, and look on them with much joy, that they received refreshment at his Table. He gave yearly Pensions, one to a very ancient Widow, and another to an ancient Gentleman, who died, and then he gave it to his Brother, being in the like want. He relieved several Knights and Gentlemen in their distress, feeding, clothing, and assisting them with money towards the burying their dead. And every Christmas he gave money to the Poor of Betchworth and Brockham: And as an encouragement to Charity he used to say, it is the best way of putting money to use, to give it to the Poor. As he was thus eminent in this Virtue of almsgiving, so he was no less in that hardest part of Charity, which is forgiving Enemies. He received as much wrong as a slanderous tongue could do him, but was so far from returning evil for evil, that contrary to that, he asked me what he should do, to do that party good; my answer was, I knew no way but Prayer: which he immediately betook himself to, after a solemn manner on his knees with me; and after that told me, he had Prayed at Church and in his bed for that party, and though he received the wrong, yet he first desired to be reconciled. I could give several other instances of his returning good for evil, for he never bore malice against any, but still endeavoured to overcome his Enemies with kindness. His Charity to souls was so diffusive, that he wrote several short dehortations from sin, and exhortations to a holy life, and used to cast them privately about the streets, that some finding them might by the grace of God be wrought upon to forsake their sins. One of the Papers I have by me, with these words in it, Fear to do ill, for thou knowst not how soon death may overtake thee. He was very just in all dealings, careful to pay his debts, and in accounting would rather be a loser than any should suffer by him. He many times used this expression, Whose Ox have I taken? He was humble, kind and courteous to the meanest of his Neighbours, and never slighted any Gentleman for his poverty; but used them with as much respect as those that had great Estates. He was a Loyal Subject to his King, a true Son of the Church of England, and very much against Popery. He was a loving Father to his Children, a very kind Master to his Servants, and (I must ever own it) he was a most tender loving Husband to me: which he showed in taking care to the utmost of his power to provide for me, and to his last in his extraordinary kind expressions to me on his deathbed. Above two years before his death a great Affliction befell him, which brought much anguish on his spirits, so that when he hath been at Prayers with his Family he could scarce bring out his words for tears: and he being naturally melancholy, great afflictions must needs lie heavier upon him and be harder to overcome, had he not had a great support from Heaven. But through God's grace they turned so much to his advantage and weaned him so from this world, that his discourses to me were as Sermons treating of Death and the happiness of the next world. He said the day of our death might very well be called the day of our birth, giving us a greater enlargement than when we came from the enclosure of our Mother's womb: And told me he and I should do as my Lady Falkland advised her friends, not love one another too much, but endeavour to wean our affections, knowing one must go before the other: telling me also of one, that when he had word brought him of the death of his only Son, said, I knew I begat a mortal. When troubles were on him, he would say, Heaven will recompense all, Heaven is a sweet place; there is no disturbance, but all Peace and Love. He hoped he might overcome his troubles, which he could never have done, had he not had a greater succour than any on Earth: but God was all in all to satisfy his soul. He used to say, all my strength is in God, had I not depended on the Holy Jesus I had been dead ere this. He could not lay himself to sleep but with some of these expressions, Jesus is my strength; God is a very present help in trouble: in him we live move and have our being: It is he that performeth all things for us: All my fresh springs are in thee O Lord. He used to have the Italian Testament, Bishop Hall's Book called, The Balm of Gilead, with other good Books at his beds-head; which he would read in before he went to sleep, finding some comfortable sentence suitable to his condition, of which he would discourse with me as he laid himself to rest. He used in great troubles to take the Bible and open it at adventure, and then read what he first found; which often hath been so suitable to his condition, that he hath received great comfort, and writ the places down, which I have by me. His heart was so much set on Heaven, that he wondered how any Religious person could concern himself for any of these vain and transitory things: and would use this expression of Dr Hammond, Let God govern the world. And when he heard of any false reports he said, Let us not trouble ourselves, but consider how we stand in the sight of God. He was very fearful of taking God's name in vain: Insomuch that when Fits seized violently on him, and pain made him cry, O Lord! he was troubled lest he had broken that Commandment, who (said he) is able to help me but he in this my great extremity? He could not endure to hear any one swear, and hated a lie. He wrote some of our blessed Saviour's Sermon on the Mount, which he intended to write out, resolving to get it by heart and make it his practice, but death seized him before it was finished. He had a great love to the Word of God; and said to his Sister on his deathbed, I love God's word, and I fear him. When he first waked in the morning he said, God be blessed that I have lived to see the light of another day, Lord grant that I may spend it to thy service; and that Collect of the Church, Prevent us O Lord in all our doings, etc. And when he rose crossing his Arms, he said, In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost, Amen; and then he said the Lords Prayer which he had a high veneration for; afterwards he read a Psalm. He did not use long Prayers, but short Ejaculations often both day and night. When I have waked in the Morning, I have seen him lifting up his hand with so great devotion that it hath moved my affection. He delighted much in discourses of Religion, and holy Meditations: and hath told me in his bed, he hath had such sweet Meditations, as have raised him even to Heaven. I am not able to express how excellently he would speak of his love to the Holy Jesus, and the blessed Trinity. He said he loved God above all, and not any thing in comparison of him; and that he would be a Martyr for God. If he were sure his sins were forgiven, and the pain of death over, he could willingly leave this world: for he desired to be dissolved and to be with Christ. He hath reckoned to me the many dangers he had escaped, and the many blessings he had received: admiring the great goodness of God that had preserved him to that present, and had given him time to repent of his sins, and bestowed many undeserved blessings on him. He told me he had desired some temporals, which God denied him; but he looked on it as a mercy, and clearly saw that it was better for him to be in that very condition God had placed him in; and would often speak of God's Providence. He was a great lover of the company of Divines; and could not abide to see them slighted. He had several of them in his prayers, and desired the benefit of theirs for himself. Satan would tempt him to lay aside his confidence in the mercies of God: but he resolved and armed himself by faith against those assaults; and hath said to me that he could as plainly see Satan in his malicious designs and temptations against him, as if he saw him with his bodily eyes. And sometimes Satan tempted him to infidelity, but he did resist him and presently said the Creed. I heard him say on his Deathbed, Satan would tempt me, but I will not believe him: And then said, I believe in God, etc. which made me think he had the same temptations then, which he had told me of at other times: And that that good God that had sustained him to that time, would not then leave him, but strengthened his faith to the last gasp. About half a year before his Death he had many scruples, which proceeded from the tenderness of his Conscience, and made him full of fears lest in this or that he had offended: and though when company came to see him, he seemed as cheerful as he could; yet when they were gone he would be troubled for any word or action he might offend in: and did examine himself of his former life with sorrow for all he had done amiss. He had very humble thoughts of himself, and would judge and blame himself rather than others: and often say a proud Man could not go to Heaven. He was of a very sweet disposition, and so tender hearted that he could not endure to see any creature in misery: and hath told me of one that put his only Son to death for delighting in putting out the eyes of birds, thinking he would be a cruel Man. And though he was thus tender hearted, yet upon a good account he had great courage, as he hath showed in his readiness to serve his King, in the Surrey rising, and at other times, though he never had the fortune to be in any action. He was a very good Scholar, understood Hebrew, Greek, Latin and Italian, and had the French Tongue as perfect as a Native. He had great skill in Music, and delighted very much in it. He had a great love to any he thought loved God. Once a poor man came begging, that said he had been taken by the Turks, and used very cruelly; but rather than he would deny Christ, he would be torn in pieces: I cannot express how much my Husband rejoiced to hear him say so, and he was so taken with him, that he gave him both Money and clothes. There was a poor Woman that used to sit with the rest of the Poor at his Servants Table, and he heard she had the report of a good Woman, he took her to his own Table, and used her with much respect. He had such humble thoughts of himself, that for some time he would not allow himself decent Burial: but afterwards he consented to it, and desired his Neighbours might accompany him to his Grave. He often desired me to be buried in the vault by him. I have something in memory of a dream that he told me of when he waked a little before his last sickness; he dreamed that the day of Judgement was come, and the Lord appearing in the clouds, and calling the Elect, he was left behind; upon which being grievously afflicted he prayed earnestly, and the Blessed Jesus looked back and called him: and he went with great joy, and was received into Heaven with the rest of the Elect. He was full of fears as to his future condition while he was here: But now I question not but he is received into the joy of the Lord. He was a sickly man for many years, troubled with Convulsion Fits and shortness of breathing, which made him fear sudden Death, and pray daily against it: But his last sickness was the Yellow-jaundice, with a very sore throat and a violent▪ Fever. And though he was in very much pain, he bore it with a great deal of patience, speaking comfortably to all about him: so that they said they never were with any one that made a better end. He was much in Prayer, I think I heard him say the Lords Prayer near twenty times in one day, when he was so weak that he could hardly bring out his words. He desired me not to be troubled, and said God would provide for me, and prayed God to send us a happy meeting: He often told me, his Prayer for me was, That God would bless me with the Blessings of his right hand and of his left. I cannot remember half the Heavenly Expressions he had when Mr. Benson the Minister of our Parish prayed by him. He said to me, Mr. Benson is a good Man, he speaks so sweetly when he speaks of God. He desired the Bell might be rung, and asked many times after it, if it did not ring. He departed this life on the 10th day of May, 1678. being Friday, the day after Ascension: And I hope he hath received the benefit of the precious Passion, and glorious Resurrection and Ascension of our dearest Lord, and ever blessed Saviour Jesus. He had formerly desired me not to be by him when he was dying, lest seeing me should make him unwilling to leave this world; and lest I should by any sudden passion disturb his soul departing▪ But at last he very much called upon me not to leave him, so I stayed with him to the last: and though my trouble was not to be expressed, yet (I thank God) I did not in the least disturb him. He endured much pain in his sickness, but at last I could not perceive he had any, but his breath grew shorter and shorter, and so he went away without the least gasp or groan. His thoughts and discourse were much of death long before; he would say our life was but as a dream, or the shadow of a dream, and as a vapour. And when he saw any disturbed for fear of losses in this world, he would say none are ever undone till they come to Hell. He loved much to dispute about Religion, but once being disputing against Predestination, and fearing he had spoken something irreverent, he was extremely afflicted; I never saw any one express more sorrow, and writ what I here set down, and have under his own hand by me: I did immediately strip myself of it, and threw myself down before the Throne of Grace, by which it had no propriety in me: I did it whatever it was to vindicate God's mercy: I have committed my cause to God who knows my thoughts, and let him deal with me according to his infinite goodness and wisdom: let Satan do what he can against me, I know my Saviour is the Captain of my Salvation. I have here endeavoured to give what account I can of my dear Husband's life; but I know I come very short of what might have been observed by one of a better memory, that had been with him so much as myself. I hope the Christian Reader, into whose hands these Papers shall come, will pardon all imperfections in the Style or Method, and make the best use of what was so well designed by the Author. The fulfilling of whose Will in setting forth his Book, and discharging my duty, in clearing him to the world, is the only cause I venture to appear in Print,  
Sarah Freman.   

I Received a Letter from a very Reverend Divine that gives this account of my dear Husband, which I write in his own words; That he was in many respects the most remarkable instance of humility, the greatest example of godly sorrow, and the most admirable Precedent of self-denial and sincere detestation of sin in himself, and passionate care that it might not infect others, which I have known. And of this it pleased the alwise guider of all things to make me a very heedful witness about 18 years ago, when I preached at the Savoy for Dr. T. F. Not many days after, I was summoned to wait on Sir George Freman, a person then altogether unknown to me, whom he entertained with a most doleful tenderness of affection, and with manly (because Christian) showers of tears spoke after this manner: Sir, You are to me as I suppose I am to you, a stranger. I thank you for your Sermon at the Savoy, where I was your Auditor. I do not think you aimed at me, but sure I am your discourse pierced my heart. I could scarce think any one there besides concerned, I dare say none more than myself. I am that miserable man, who have not remembered my Creator in the days of my Youth, (my Text was Eccles. xii. 1.) and now what shall I do, what shall I do? give me your advice, assist me with your Prayers. Thus in one person perceiving many blessed marks of true penitents, wounded with St Peter's hearers who were pricked to the heart, Acts 2. inquisitive with the Baptist's pious Auditors, St Luke 3. vowing amendment with David, and commanding it in those under his care; sending to me as good Josiah did to Huldah the Prophetess. I did as soon as I had recovered myself from that tumult of passions which a sight so unexpected did raise, apply myself, according to my poor ability, with utmost compassion, to aid the sorrowful patient of the Almighty; who was pleased, after divers week's conference, prayers, and meditations on several Texts of Scripture, and such like means used by myself, and others of far more experience, to raise up his troubled spirit, bowed down with the dreadful apprehensions of God's heavy displeasure, and to stay him with some comfortable hopes that our heavenly Father would not cast him off for ever, nor always shut up his loving kindness and tender mercy. For which with what singular expressions of penitential sorrow he prepared himself, I am not able to utter. With what zealous indignation did he call to mind his sins! With what affectionate care did he dehort his Family from all wicked and vain courses! I was astonished to see and hear with what awful reverence, prostration and tears, with what inflammation of soul, he kissed the sacred Book when he solemnly renewed his Covenant with God. I am too little acquainted with virtue, to describe that masculine meekness, wherewith he deprecated the injury he had done to his meanest attendants by his former example. I know too little of sanctification to tell you with what fervency of spirit he declaimed against, and dissuaded his servants from the imitation of his now abhorred practices, and with penitent Manasses solemnly resolved to command all under his authority to serve the Lord, The sincerity of these resolutions was proved by his pious behaviour, whereof I was till 1664. sometimes an eye-witness; and by this did appear the soundness of his judgement, for hereby he declared, that he knew how dangerous and senseless a conceit it is (which is too common) that men may believe well without repentance, and repent well without amendment, live well without prayer, and pray well without faith. And now, Madam, who can think he wants joy, who thus sowed in tears? and why should any bewail him who is happier than here he could be? Relieve yourself from sad thoughts with reflecting upon that bliss and fullness of pleasure, which he most earnestly groaned for and now enjoys for ever.  
The dissuasive from Drunkenness (a most acutely pious discourse) I had from his own hand, and 'tis now no little ornament to my Study.  
The relics of his judicious and divine Pen (designed for the benefit of more than one age) will have great commendation to the wiser part of the world from the learned Author, and those excellencies wherein they resemble him will give security that none can buy his Book too dear, or better bestow his time than in reading what he wrote.   

A Letter written to me upon the Death of my Husband.  
Madam,  
YOur loss is great, by reason of the Death of your dear Husband: however you have this comfort to allay the grievance of the loss, the hope and even confidence that he is gone to Heaven. Neither will it be accounted partiality in you, in thus charitably judging of him; for it is very reasonable that is thus concluded concerning him. Contrary to the usual way of a Letter, let me so method what I knew of him to be very true:  
First, He was a person of great reason, and had such a judgement as would rightly distinguish betwixt good and evil.  
Secondly, He did not thwart his Judgement and opinion of things by his actions, but accordingly steered his course, as nearly as frail humanity would permit.  
Thirdly, He was a true son of the Church of England, and wondered at the opposition and contradictions of others to its Christian tenants.  
Fourthly, His Prayers were constant unto God for the conversion of our Church's Enemies. He laboured not only by strong arguments when he met with the Recusants, but at other times also when he was alone, by his Prayers to make them Proselytes.  
Fifthly, He was heavenly minded, and his discourse was continually about God and Eternity; and he affected no man's company whose talk was worldly, for he accounted it frivolous and vain.  
Sixthly, Though a person of quality, yet he was affable and courteous, and strangely condescending, and choosed his Associates rather for their goodness than for their greatness.  
Seventhly, He was charitable, ready to contribute towards the necessity of the poor, and timed some of his liberal gifts excellent well; encouraged many of the poor Parishioners to come constantly to the Church by entertaining many of them at his own House every Sunday.  
Eightly, He had a singular love for you his affectionate and most loving Wife: It was nothing but death that could have separated him from you. I might speak several things more, very honourably of him, but I purpose brevity. Madam, I know, you lament because you have parted with so good and virtuous an Husband as Sir George was: but let his virtue and goodness be an occasion of your rejoicing. He now is possessed of that which we pray for to enjoy, Everlasting bliss and happiness.  
I am, Your humble and Faithful Servant, J. B.   

TO THE MEMORY OF THE Pious Author Sir GEORGE FREMAN, Knight of the BATH, His ever Honoured Godfather.  

1.  
Blessed Soul! Thou who art wont to be,  
Even when alive, a Saint to me.  
And on my tender bead didst often lay  
Blessings for which thy little Votary  
Was taught to pray,  
With humble voice and bended knee,  
As to some Officer of Heav'ens great Treasury.  
Hear me again now after Death,  
Accept the tribute of my grateful breath,  
And let it not disturb thy happiness  
A while to hear my Verse express  
Our sorrows for our loss of Thee,  
And joys for thy fruition of vast Eternity.   

2.  
Thou, now the storms of sin and grief are o'er,  
Art landed safe on the eternal shore;  
And looking down smile'st on life's Galley— slaves,  
Tossed to and fro on Fortune's waves:  
Now to th' top of Honour's sky they're gone,  
And down to th' Hell of low disgrace are headlong cast anon.  
Some in slight Pleasure— boats do careless row,  
And unconcerned o'er the deep Gulf they go,  
ne'er minding either Stars above, or Monsters hid below.   

3.  
Now quiet and serene are all thy thoughts;  
Thy mind not tangled with hard knots,  
Tied by thy too scrup'utous fears,  
Not to be loosened by thy tears:  
Which vanish now quite out of sight  
Like idle Phantoms of the night.  
And Heaven without a cloud does now appear,  
Nothing but Love and joy and Hallelujahs there.  
Now are thy busy scruples all at rest;  
And even thy Melancholy's blessed,  
Which did thy loser appetite command,  
Though with too strict and too severe a hand.  
Now thou art entered on those solid joys,  
Where without laughing's mirth, and music without noise.   

4.  
Thou the great circle of all arts hast past,  
Another Drake haste learning's world embraced;  
And knowest how small a point 'tis if it vie  
With the immense circumference of the sky.  
What follyed all is when we've left this world's Academy:  
The soul shakes all these rags off then,  
To the new clothed in heaven again.  
And here as reminiscence science is:  
So there when we forget it are we wise.  
Our sins or virtues only then remain;  
We have no list to think on aught that's vain.  
Who can from heavens observatory view,  
If Tycho or Copernicus be true;  
And with as much ease know, as now we err with pain.   

5.  
Thou wast my Guardian Angel here below,  
And didst me all the paths of virtue show.  
When I a stranger hither come,  
From nothing's and my Mother's Womb,  
Did neither the people nor their language know;  
Strait didst thou wash my soul from sin,  
It's original secundine;  
And at the sacred Font for fear  
I from th' eternal laws should swerve,  
Or any other Master serve,  
Madest me the badge and name of Christian bear.   

6.  
But now alas! thou'rt from this Country gone,  
And here hast left me wand'ring all alone:  
The clue is broke, and weary I  
Bewildered in this Labyrinth lie,  
And nought but monstrous Minotaurs of unheard Vices spy.  
Thy sacred relics now must be  
A second holy Guide to me,  
And from thy Book I will such blessings crave  
As once thy living precepts gave;  
Where we behold thy Soul, itself, and free  
From the restraint of vainer Company;  
From th' heats of Wine and passion,  
From compliment and fashion,  
And all that discords with its native Harmony.   

7.  
Thy Charity expires not with thy breath,  
But here thou'rt benefactor after death.  
Out of the ample treasure of thy mind  
Leaving a stock of holy truths behind;  
Thou dost a large estate to pious souls bequeath.  
O may success answer the great design;  
May'st thou be others guide, as well as mine.  
And may't increase thy joys to see  
Thy Converts flocking after Thee,  
The fruits of all thy passionate cares,  
Captives of thy discourse, or blessings to thy Prayers.   
A. B.   

A BRIEF APOLOGY FOR THE Lord's Prayer.  
I Have selected two Texts out of the New Testament; one is in the 6th Chap. of St Matthew, the beginning of the 9th verse; 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, After this manner therefore pray ye, etc. the other is in the eleventh of St Luke at the second verse, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, And he said unto them, when you pray, say, Our Father. Which two places of Scripture will administer a redundancy of argument to prove what I have undertaken, namely, That it is the duty of every Christian to use the Lords Prayer constantly, both at his public and private Devotions. As to the integrality, and exact composure of this Prayer, every man will readily acknowledge it, because it were sacrilegious impudence to say otherwise: notwithstanding this, you shall hear the most moderate of its opposers say, that the assiduous use of it is not necessary; and many since our late dissensions began, have declared by their continued omission of it, that it is not requisite at all, not allowing it entertainment (although the Lord's Prayer) within the walls of the Church, styled by our Saviour himself, the House of Prayer; nor into their own houses at their Family Duties, and I have much reason to fear, not into the most recluse corners, when they have been at their private devotions: Thus did they in effect teach Assemblies, that prayer as effectual as that, might be made out of new moulds of their own, and entertained them with nothing else, but their own belches and eruptions. On the contrary, I do assert the necessity of its use, both at all times of prayer, and by all persons; first from the primitive practice, and the high esteem that all the Eminent Fathers of the Church had of it: And next I shall endeavour to prove it by Logical deductions from the letter of the Scripture, in one text, and by unavoidable consequence from the other, showing that the place cited out of St Matthew, must of necessity hold Analogy with that of St Luke: I will begin with that of St Luke, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, in the original is an adverb, compounded of 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 adverbium primarium, and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 conjunctio potentialis; sometimes it signifies postquam, after that, as St John, chap. 16. vers. 21. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, postquam aut pepererit; sometimes quamdiu, as long as, so St John 9 5. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, quamdiu in mundo fuero; here it signifies quum, or quando, and being indefinite comprehendeth all the times of Prayer: but if you should put it thus, as a solution to a question, namely, as if I should ask a man when will you do such a kindness for me? 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉; and the answer be made, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, Isidor. when you return, here supposing I had told him before when I would return, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 is not indefinite, but joined with 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, is an answer to the precedent question, and points at some hour, or day in the which I said I would return; but in the Text it must of necessity comprehend all the times of prayer: and therefore this injunction, When you pray, say, Our Father, is, and must of necessity be as much as if our Saviour had said, whensoever you pray, say, Our Father which art in heaven, etc. Nor will it enter into my apprehension, how this can possibly admit of any other explication. But to this they will object, if so, that our Saviour enjoins us whensoever we pray, to say, Our Father; the consequence will be, that we must say no other prayer: for when we pray in another form, we pray; how is this command then fulfilled, when you pray, say, Our Father, if we take a liberty to vary from it? I answer, that by these words, when you pray, is not to be understood all the continued time of prayer, but some part of that occasional, or assiduous praying, so that it is not spoken exclusively of all other prayers; for St Paul, Ephes, 1. 16. tells them he ceaseth not to pray for them; and verse the 17th tells them in what manner, namely, in words of his own, as you may there read; and in another place, Acts 2. 42. it is said, And they continued in the Apostles doctrine, and fellowship, and breaking of bread, and prayers, in the plural; so that it is much more probable that they did use occasional prayers, and not make a continued repetition of the Lords Prayer: besides, we find that St chrysostom, St Augustine, St Bernard, and all the Fathers took that liberty, neither was it ever questioned; but however, if the Text did restrain us to it, those that use it not at all would be the more strongly refuted. From the premises than it will appear, that this individual prayer, these very words (for they are the immediate subject of that command) must be used by every Christian, whensoever he applieth himself to God in prayer: But to this they will object, That the Text in St Matthew gives a dispensation from using these very words, because it saith. pray after this manner, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, thus. To this I answer, If our Saviour commandeth us in this Text to pray after this Prayer, than he doth implicitly, though not expressly enjoin these very words; but if it be supposed to be spoken exclusively of the Lords Prayer, that is, as if our Saviour had said, You need not say my Prayer, or you need not use it always, but set it as a pattern, and rest always, or for the most part, upon your own methods, which you make in imitation of mine; what would the consequence be, but a horrid one? namely, that our Saviour did set a greater estimate upon those subsequent prayers, which we were afterwards to make in imitation of his, than he did upon his own, which will inevitably follow if we reflect upon the ends of prayer. The chief subordinate ends of prayer (for there are many others inferior to them) are these, to prevail with God for the communicating of Grace to the soul, that so by faith and repentance we may be interested in Christ, and then by the application of his merits to our souls, we are put into an estate of salvation, which is the last of those intermediate or subordinate ends of prayer; for if we continue in that, the next remove, we shall arrive at eternal salvation, which is the ultimate end of prayer, and of all the Ordinances of God. Thus then I argue, If these be the ends of prayer, than the best composed prayer must needs be the most efficacious for the procurement of these ends; but if our Saviour commands us to make prayers after his, and gives a dispensation to omit his own (though but sometimes) the forementioned consequence will follow, that he prefers our prayers before his own: for he doth most certainly desire the salvation of our souls, and doing so, hath as certainly appointed the most conducible means thereunto; but if he dispenseth with the continued use of his own prayer, and enjoins us to make others after it, and those to be our daily prayers, it will inevitably follow, that he looks upon ours as more efficacious than his own, which is a most blasphemous consequence. But again, suppose this Text, after this manner pray ye, did not so necessarily enjoin the use of the Lords Prayer; yet the other doth, for it saith, when you pray, say, Our Father, etc. This admits of no evasion, as I suppose myself to have already proved, since these very words are the immediate subject of the command, whereupon I offer this argument; If one place of Scripture do ipsis terminis, and expressly command any one Duty, and any other place of Scripture seem to dispense with it, the ambiguous Text must be accommodated to that which is conspicuous, and clearly intelligible; for otherwise we shall make the word of God repugnant to itself: then if my judgement fail me not, it is evident, that the Text in St Luke admits of no cavil, and the other carries but a seeming occasion of one, but this seemingness (if there be such) must veil to the other, which is so nervous and evincing: as for that ridiculous caution, that they omit the use of it in public, lest men should idolise a form; they may as well say, that the Scriptures may be taken away from them, because they may idolise the mechanic part of it, namely, the paper, and the binding, or the letters, and not look at the system of Truth, which is comprised in it. But besides this, the Lords Prayer can no more be accounted indifferent, as to its peculiar use (which is to be offered up to God in praying) than any other places of Scripture, as to their proper and peculiar uses; because the Lord's Prayer is a part of Scripture: Now the Historical part of Scripture is to be believed, the Doctrinal part is to be believed, and practised, and urged in polemical discourses, the supplicatory part is to be prayed; and therefore my Opinion is, That when men do vary from this prayer (which undoubtedly is lawful, prvided they do not exclude it) their prayers should be composed as near as they can of sentences collected out of Scripture. To dispense with the use of this Prayer is in the general, repugnant to Theology, which enjoins the greatest reverence, and esteem that possibly can be for matters of Divine Institution; and especially a command which issued immediately, and with so much clearness out of the blessed mouth of Christ himself, doth certainly call for our ready and constant obedience; and it is contrary to all Christian practice, it having ever been magnified in the Church of God, and inconsistent with the Principles of Reason, if we take but a moral view of it; for in all actions the medium, or instrumental cause, must be fitly proportioned for the attainment of what we design, and by all requirable circumstances accommodated to that end; or else we have no certain grounds to expect the procurement of what we would have: but here it is otherwise, if we sue for blessings in our own deficient language, and indigested petitions, voluntarily omitting this most accurate form, which was composed by him, who is the wisdom of the Father, by which he made the world, the first of St John and the tenth verse: Whosoever therefore doth it, despiseth the very wisdom of God, he is guilty lesae Divinae Majestatis, of high treason against the King of heaven: and therefore it is not strange, that during the late eclipse of our Church, rebellion did rouse up herself more and more, till at last, with a bare and impudent face, she laughed at the tenderness of Allegiance; for there is great reason to think, that the deliberate omission of the Lords Prayer, was the sudden admission of rebellion; for he that dares despise the wisdom of God, and by that means commit the highest treason, and speak the greatest blasphemy against God, will easily slide into a conspiracy of treason against his Temporal Prince: and although I am induced to believe, that there was a foams of rebellion and spleen lodged, and lurking in the hearts of many these late wars, which gave the first spring to our dissensions; yet, that by the neglect of this prayer, jointly with the discontinuance of communicating in the Lord's Supper, and the removal of Orthodox Divines, and many other causes, I have great reason to believe they were very much promoted. As there is a reason in Divinity, why the neglect of this Prayer was a great inlet to rebellion; so is there likewise in Moral Philosophy, for he that slights this most accurate form, will most certainly not stick to oppose all other forms in the Church, by an argument à majore ad minus: and he that opposeth Set Forms, and Ecclesiastical Constitutions, hath a principle of licentiousness, and independency in him, which will be still administering arguments to him (dato uno absurdissimo) by a series of moral, or rather immoral consequences against all coercive power, first in the Church, and then in the State, which truth hath been (though very deplorably) yet evincingly laid down before us in the late rebellion: concerning which truth our dread Sovereign Charles the second, having been without doubt along time satisfied, is well prepared with instructions for his own security; though I believe his Piety more than his Regal Interest will cement him to the Church of England, which is the repository of primitive discipline and order. Whether these arguments may be prevalent with many others, I know not, but they are so much with me, that I was exceedingly scandalised at the public omission of it, and am well assured that a very great body of Christians in England were so with myself; and that it was not scandalum acceptum on our side, but scandalum datum on theirs who did reject it: And I would very fain be satisfied how the Dissenters from Ecclesiastical Ceremonies can quarrel with the Church of England for imposing things in their own nature indifferent, that is, not prohibited by God in his revealed will; how they can, I say, except against the imposition of such lawful things, and plead it is for this reason, to avoid giving offence to tender consciences, which consciences cry out before they are hurt, and yet maintain that themselves may publicly omit this great duty of saying the Lords Prayer, and that to the offence of so many well-grounded consciences, who can by no means dispense with it. The Church of England out of her prudent care to preserve Order and Uniformity in the exterior part of God's worship, imposeth a lawful thing or action, and that's a sin; the Presbyterian dispenseth with the not performing of a necessary duty, and that's no sin. The Church of England magnifies Christ's Prayer, and that's idolising a Form; the Presbyterian despiseth it, and that's good Religion: The Parliament of England, of which the Fathers of the Church are a very considerable part, do cause the illegitimate Covenant to be burnt, and that's a great wickedness; the Presbyterian slights the Divine Energy of the Lords Prayer (legitimate, as Tertullian calls it) which is far worse than the bare action of burning the paper wherein it is printed or written, and that's not ill at all. But it may be they will say to me, you make a discourse concerning the excellency of the Lords Prayer, we may ask you the same question that one was asked, who insisted long upon the praise of Hercules, Quis unquam vituperavit Herculem? which of us ever spoke against the excellency of the prayer? It is true, I never heard any man in terminis do it, as I said in the beginning of my discourse (for that were open blasphemy, and persistence in it would merit excommunication from the society of Christians) but you do implicitly, and inclusively, or otherwise why do you not use it? Actions speak more than words, and cry aloud in the ears of God either for reward or judgement: But some of them do object, that they do use it sometimes, but they are not bound to use it always. To this I answer, that the intermitting of its use, doth imply the setting of but a gradual esteem upon it, and that they do not acknowledge its supereminency above all other prayers. If a man that is prescribed an excellent diet-drink, which never sailed the cure of some disease which he labours with, and is ordered by his Physician to take it every day; if he intermit but one day it will argue that he doth not so highly approve of it, that is, that he doth disapprove of it, in a degree proportionable to the discontinuance of it: So if any man do make use of the Lords Prayer sometimes, and sometimes useth it not; what doth this omission of his (unless it be through forgetfulness) but secretly whisper to the understanding that he doth not intensively and absolutely approve of it, but partially and in gradibus remissis. For to say the Lords Prayer is the best prayer, and yet to say, it is not requisite to use it at all times of prayer, is a most absurd assertion, and to be exploded by all judicious men; for if it be the best, and that most transcendently, why should any other prayer justle it out? It is true, that many times there is incumbent upon the soul the guilt of so many great and often repeated sins, that the deep apprehension of the spirit at such a time requires more room, and a greater field of language to rove up and down in, and to unbosom her remorse to God whom she hath offended; she would come to a more particular repentance, and insist upon all the circumstances which may aggravate her guilt, and be argument of sorrow to her in her self-condemning, that by her timely sentence, upon herself she may avoid that irrevocable sentence which Christ at the last day will pronounce against those who justify themselves, and therefore is not satisfied in her deep recesses of grief, with that petition in our Lord's Prayer, Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive them that trespass against us: and therefore other prayers are allowable, because the soul doth by them as it were divide her repentance into smaller parcels, and make it more fine by sifting it into single circumstances; but when this penitent Soul hath recollected all she can for the accusation of herself, and finds that in her memory she can discover no more, being troubled she cannot; now let her make a sure conclusion with this perfect prayer, which is a summary of all her wants, in which she confesseth all her sins, and asketh forgiveness for all; and not for her own sins only, but for the sins of the whole Church, by which Petition of the Lords Prayer we are most sweetly taught how diffusive our Charity should be: and now having confessed all her sins, and begged pardon of God for all her own, and others sins, she can strain at no more, but finding in this prayer a sweet repository of all her scruples, commits herself to God, till the next time that he shall honour her so highly, as to let her enter again into that near Communion with himself which Prayer gives us. So that to conclude, though the Lords Prayer do not exclude the use of other Prayers, especially when they are collected out of Scripture; yet it comes with full commission for the use of itself: Especially at the conclusion of our devotions. For then all other forms of Prayer, which are like rivulets and little streams, should retire into this Prayer, as they into the Ocean to cover their imperfections. One thing I shall add more, and that concerning the brevity of it: for although various expressions are allowed to the Soul in her passions for sin, which when they are found in the concerns of repentance, are most exceeding acceptable to God in Christ; yet that is caused by the unaptitude of the body to answer readily to the first motions of the soul. And therefore the soul cannot communicate her notions but by a longer successiveness of discourse; but those that have most evaded their passions, and are advanced nearer to a ready use of their noble faculties, may with the Lords Prayer, perform the act of repentance thoroughly, and obtain pardon for their sins, with all temporal blessings, without a fear, or groan, or any farther enlargements of themselves, and rise up as much advanced as any others, in all the concernments of their salvation.  
FINIS.   

A DEHORTATION FROM ALL SIN, BUT Particularly the Sin OF DRINKING.  
Reader,  
IF thou hast been hitherto careful to lead a good life, according to the rule of God's Word, I entreat thee to persevere for the Lords sake unto the end, that thou mayest receive the end of thy hope, even the salvation of thy soul; which upon thy continuance in well-doing, thou shalt most certainly accomplish, to thy unspeakable comfort: but if thou art a captive to the false, and deceitful pleasures of sin, as I have been; harken unto me, who can upon too too long an experience (Lord pardon my many relapses) assure thee, that what fair appearances soever sin presents thee with in its first approaches, it will leave a sting behind, and after the commission of every sinful act, thou wilt most certainly be so far removed from God as the greatness of thy sin was; and as the testimonies of a good conscience decay, so will the accusations of an evil one come in their room, till insensibly thou fall into horror and despondencies of spirit, one of the least of which is far too dear a price for all the pleasures the world can afford thee. These are the entrances of Hell into thy soul, upon the withdrawings of God, and spiritual consolations; without which the soul languisheth, as the body fainteth upon a decay of the animal, or vital spirits: this must thou look for after the continuance in any known, and presumptuous sin, but if thou find it not, thy condition is dangerous, for the obduration, or hardening of the heart is the threshold of Hell: look quickly then and seriously into thy soul; labour to get a sight of thy sins in the Book of Conscience, whiles they may be blotted out; pray earnestly to God for a true sense of them, (for Prayer is the Key of Heaven;) consider often of Death, Judgement, Heaven and Hell; think how odious the sin of ingratitude is between man and man, and that unthankfulness for the Blood of Christ is the highest of that kind: think of the shortness of man's life, and the great business is to be done in that little life: that thy short life is posting to an end; O the folly, and madness of sin! it is a continual acting against reason, a treasuring up of wrath with the God of all Power, a providing for the society of Devils, and damned souls, who will be cursing their Maker, and one another to all eternity; 'tis that which only is dishonourable to man, a disturbance to Commonwealths; it is the satisfaction of Devils (if they could have any,) the trouble of Angels, and blessed souls, nay, the grieving of the Holy Ghost, and the continual murdering of the Son of God. I have no design in this short Discourse, but the Glory of God, the conversion of souls, and the discharging of my own Conscience, by testifying to as many as I can, the detestation of my former life, that so the ill consequences of my example may be in some measure repaired by this publication of myself: and therefore wish to that end that all may see this, that saw my debauchery: and I beseech God to give me boldness in the confession of my faults, and to make me only shameful of recommitting them. Above all things I advise men to beware of immoderate drinking, which dulls the understanding, and makes the soul impatient of contemplation: it disposeth vehemently to the pleasures of sense, and to a giggling impertinent mirth; it precipitateth to the acts of uncleanness, and exciteth all the passions, exposing men to many and daily hazards both of soul and body, and rendering them unfit for any employment, either in Ecclesiastical or Civil Affairs. And since it is so, that some men's bodies by their temperament do require strong drinks more than others, it is not a total abstinence but a moderate use of it which is expected: for which end, I think it a very good rule, by which to set some observable bounds to drinking; that men would drink so far as to cherish the stomach, but not to the least elevation of the brain; and the stomach is satisfied with a small quantity, unless a man lie under the cheat of a habit: but when the spirits of the wine, or any strong liquor, begin to mount up to the brain, from whence the soul doth principally, and most immediately act; the contemplative power begins to be disquieted, and unfixt, and the soul now to fluctuating, as it were, and wavering in her motion, (her best, and steady operations being hindered) pleases herself with being conversant about outward things, and trivial objects, and lies more exposed to the danger of frequent temptations: this which I speak of is but the first change of the brain, when it is altered from its usual tone and composure; and although a man may drink to this pitch, and yet carry civility about him, and a favourable correspondence with men, because his tongue doth not falter, neither is his understanding so obscured, as to fail, at least in matters of common converse; yet this person who hath done nothing unacceptable to the world, hath so changed the Scene within himself, that he is now more at the command of his sensual appetite, than before, and his noble faculties begin to lean towards the world, and stagger in the sight of God, though his legs stand firm before the eyes of them that see him: I appeal to the consciences of any such plausible drinkers, whether they do not find themselves more cold in acts of devotion, more fond of outward pleasures, more affected with the thoughts of temporal honours, and the favour of great men, more than the love of Jesus. Whether the contemplation of eternity, and the estate of their souls in reference to that being, doth so well relish with them at that time? If they did so, why do they not wave a Stage-play, and go to public prayers, which are at that time? Why, instead of going to a wrangling Gaming-house, do they not study the game of Christianity, that they may beat that experienced Gamester the Devil, and win their souls, which lie continually at stake, and are in imminent danger of being lost? What a sad thing is it that so noble a Creature as man, should rest in, and be contented with trifles, for whom are prepared the glories of eternity, if here he will take upon him the easy yoke, and light burden of Christ? Now although many men that drink not, may, and do often these things, and far worse; yet drink betrays them more easily to vanities, and idle pastimes; therefore be careful to avoid this degree of drinking, and thou wilt then be secure from the scandalous sin of visible drunkenness, which is the beastly consummation of the former. I do not speak this to persuade men from society, and cheerfulness; as if Religion, and Mirth were things inconsistent; since I know that true Mirth is found no where else: But we do for the most part mistake Mirth the most of any thing, accounting that it consists in laughter only; whereas properly a man may be most truly merry when he laugheth least: For none laugh more than Idiots, and men of weak understanding, and sensualists; while men advanced in knowledge, and quieted in mind, by serious and due reflections on themselves, do it but seldom: but none will deny but the latter sort have the greater cause for mirth, and consequently must needs be more truly merry: for true mirth is a complacency of the mind, arising from the apprehension of our personal happiness; yet while we are in the body, laughter is natural, and if it be kept within its bounds, and placed upon right subjects, is both allowable, and conducing to health; but is not tied to the Glass, or Bowl. This caution against drinking, concerns those chiefly whose bodies require strong drinks in some small proportion, (for none do much) since those who are of another temperament, will abstain without any man's counsel, or any virtue of their own, which is only seen where there are propensities to the contrary; though some men of this sort may contract habits to themselves, contrary to the first requisites of nature. I cannot methinks dissuade men enough from this sin, because I have so often drawn others into it, and therefore hope to make some reparation for the spiritual hurt I may have done them who are yet living, whiles for those of my associates who are departed this life, I hope the mercies of God did overtake them: and I wish from my soul that the spiritual dangers which I have experimented, and do know to be in that which we call good fellowship, or a chirping Cup (two seducing terms) and the great scandal, besides the sin itself, which is in staggering drunkenness, may have such an influence upon those who have no account to make for any thing that they have yet done as to this sin, that they may never commit it; and for those who have, and do yet continue in it, that considering the great dangers attending upon it, which (though now drowned in the lavers of the Grape) will one day rise up and show themselves to their terror, they may start from it with as terrible apprehensions, while they may prevent the danger, as the reprobate will do at Hell when time is past, and he cannot escape it. For my own particular, I have habituated myself to this vice from my youth, and of later years have continued in it upon a misapprehension, that the predominancy of my temperament being Melancholy, which is cold, and dry, it did require the supply of some accidental heat to correct it: but I do now think I have mistaken myself all this while, since looking back upon my beginning, I do not find I was so when I was under tutelage; and therefore do impute it to a habit contracted since, and some intervening causes of discontent: but since it is so easy a thing to be cheated into an ill custom, and so dangerous to be under it, it behoves us to be very vigilant against this adversary, which comes in the shape of nature, and hath such great advantages upon us. Custom hath an interest in the actions of the whole world; in good men it disposeth them to goodness, though the first Principle that moves in them is a Principle of Grace; but when the sanctified Soul hath made some progress in a good life, custom comes in, and promotes it, and facilitates our perseverance: in bad men likewise it disposeth, and inclines them the more strongly to vice; and you shall find, that men who accustom themselves to a constant afternoons-draught in the week days, seldomest go to an afternoons Sermon upon the Sunday, if they go at all; because the ill habit prevails so strongly, that the vitiated stomach must have its false wants supplied, though the soul miss of her spiritual repast.  
To prevent the contracting of this habit upon such as are yet free, and to set those at liberty who are enslaved by it, I shall propose this general remedy; be always employed in lawful exercises: It is an Epidemical disease amongst the Nobility and Gentry of this Nation, to be sick of their time; which is such a burden to them, that being tired with the tediousness of the day, they must either drink or trifle it away to avoid a surfeit; this as it is a disparagement to their judgements, so it is an exceeding detriment to their souls: for since man hath a soul which must be eternally saved or damned, he is a fool that thinks he wants employment, and he doth every minute draw nearer to the ruin of himself; therefore let none of us ever pretend that we want business. If I have no accounts to take concerning my estate, no Lawsuits to follow; though I am not a Magistrate, or a Divine, though I have no Office at Court, though I have the Gout and cannot walk; though I am blind, or shut up in a dungeon from conversing either with Men or Books, or whatsoever can befall me; yet still I have a soul which is in her militant estate, and in the worst of these conditions, I can do acts of repentance, reflecting with sorrow and detestation upon my sins past, and renewing my purposes of amendment: I can meditate upon God's Mercies and all his Attributes; I can perform acts of Praise to him: and for those public actions which I cannot do if I am denied the liberty of my body, and the society of men, yet I can have them in voto, and desiring to do what I am denied, and so I can keep on my journey to Heaven, though I lie shackled in a dungeon. But indeed employment is as generally mistaken as mirth; for most men think they want it, if their time be not spent in some bodily exercise, or upon some slight or common subject; but for meditation upon God and the Soul, the concernments of it, that's accounted a symptom of Melancholy, and reading, writing, or discoursing of any thing that is serious, or profitable, which comes the nearest to it. A great cause of this evil ariseth, either from the carelessness of Parents in not giving their Children a literate education, or their own neglect of improving it, when they are at liberty from their Tutors, or Parents, or whoever had the charge of them: for as the Principles of Learning and Knowledge do wear out, so the delight in superficial things grows more strong and prevalent; because the knowledge of any one thing, and the delight in it, always go, and come together; since we cannot take pleasure in any thing which we are ignorant of: therefore Hawking, Hunting, Horse-matches, Gaming, stageplays, and the like, are made the business of our time, in which our delights do terminate, which should only be used to unbend the mind, and give it relief after serious employments; and to exercise the body for the preservation of health, being altogether subordinate to greater ends: and this is one reason why Taverns are so much frequented; because Libraries are out of request, and holy, learned, or serious communications do not relish with us. But this is not sufficient to excuse them; for though men either want education, or stifle it, yet they cannot extinguish Reason, and lose the Principles of Religion, which they have in their Catechisms, in their Bibles, and by Preaching; and therefore upon that account it is expected by God, that they yield obedience to him proportionably to this common, and general Knowledge; which if any man fails to do, want of education will not be a sufficient plea, because it will be found to be an act of his will, running contrary to these degrees of Knowledge: if any man shall say at the Tribunal of Christ, that he spent his time in drinking, and idle pastimes, because he was not brought up to Learning, what will that avail him, who did live under the means of Grace, which were sufficient for his salvation? for though he had no knowledge in Tongues, and Sciences, yet he knew the Commandments of God, and could not plead ignorance in presumptuous sins: and though he that cannot read and understand Greek, or Latin; yet if he can read English, let him spend a part of his time in reading the Bible, and other good Books: and though he cannot discourse in Natural or Moral Philosophy, or in the Metaphysics, nor much in practical Divinity; yet let him speak within the limits of his knowledge, let him reprove common sins, and give all encouragement to the generals of a holy life, both by word and example: and if he be sooner tired with discourse, than men of greater knowledge would be; then let him betake himself (as I advised before) to some honest divertisements; but not to any thing that hath the least appearance of evil in it; the result of this is, that whether a man be literate, or illiterate, he may serve God: and those Gentlemen of our Nation that are not members of the Commonwealth of Learning, may yet be members of the Mystical Body of Christ: and though their delight in great Studies, in Polemical Discourses and Meditations are lost, proportionably to the decay of their Knowledge; yet their time may be the more spent in the Agenda of Religion, and they may be allowed a more frequent use of lawful recreations, but not of drinking, though but to good fellowship; which though the word sounds finely, a man can hardly do it and secure his innocence: but since the remedy of continual employment is not sufficient for an accustomed drinker, he must unravel the habit by little and little, to which the shunning of idleness will very much help him. To conclude, Let us be careful to resist all the species and kinds of sin whatsoever; for it is only sin which can deprive us of the favour of God, which if once we are excluded from, we are eternally lost; but especially the sin of Drinking, which is the unhappy Parent of all other sins, and therefore the more carefully to be withstood; which care if this short Admonition may but stir up in one soul, I should more rejoice to know, than to have the greatest honour of the Nation conferred upon me. Now to God the Father, God the Son, and God the holy Ghost, be all honour, glory, praise and adoration, given by me, and by all his creatures, from hence forth to all eternity Amen.  
FINIS.   

AN ENQUIRY INTO THE Sinfulness of my Life: Composed of Confessions and Supplications FOR PARDON.  

CHAP. I.  
MY intention in writing this, is to make restitution (a necessary circumstance required from true repentance) for the public injuries I may very probably have done to the persons of many, who have beheld the licentious part of my life: I did write about a twelve month since, this, being the 15th of April, An. Dom. 1664. A short dehortation from a sinful life, but principally the sin of Drinking; which I did for the same end I write this: I purposed then to do what good I could both by Precept and Example. But alas, since that I have miserably fallen into the same Vice, even the Sin of Drinking, which I chiefly reproved, but not without many checks, serious retirements, and fresh attempts to overcome the Vice; and herein I manifestly discover the depravedness of my Will, and the proneness of my corrupted Nature to offend God: for when I did set myself most seriously to do good, I did find evil to be present with me; O miserable man that I am! But for the residue of my days, if God's ineffable Mercy shall add any more to my life, I do firmly purpose to spend them in a strict observation of Divine Laws, having gained by a most dangerous experience, clearer apprehensions concerning the temperament of my body, the unprofitableness, and deceitfulfulness of sin, a better insight into the subtlety of the Devils proceedings against my deluded soul: O thou who givest both to will, and to do, and in that bounteous act hast not been partial to any, that none might be excusable in sinning before thee, stir up thy gifts in me, and cooperate with my weak endeavours, suffering me to live so long, that I may have time to make up a sound evidence for my interest in Christ, though not of so long a date as those happy souls who have been long proficients in the Doctrine, and practice of the true Christian Religion: for whom I bless thee, praying that my end may be such, as to bring me into the same place with them, though I be never so low in my celestial degree.   

CHAP. II.  
MY Father's care was such as not to deny me any thing for my Education: I lived in my Father's House with my dear Brother under two Tutors, the last of which, I being arrived to a greater measure of understanding, had a great affection to. He was of an affable disposition, and expressed great love to us, even with tears at his departing from us: he was very Religious, which I may say was not unpleasant to me when I was very young; but the Vice of Drinking did soon overtake me by the reason of some loose acquaintance, who gave me an ill Example, so that I began to go with them to Alehouses, which did soon initiate me in an ill habit, which was much sooner taken up, than it could be since removed: Thus I continued till I was about thirteen years of age, at which time I went with my Father to Oxford, which was then a Garrison; there I being alone with my Father, was much in his eye, which did restrain me very well from drinking: being likewise sent to All-Souls-Colledge, where a Gentleman read Greek to me in the mornings, I had there likewise a civil playfellow, Mr Thomas Sanderson, with whom I spent my time in harmless Recreations; but afterwards being very desirous to go along with my Cousin Martin Harvy to his Quarters, not far from Oxford, who Commanded a Troop of Horse, and was willing to show me the Country, and some part of the Army, for which I was very importunate with my Father; but he would not suffer me to go from him, but carried me along with him back again to his Countryhouse in Surrey. But afterwards my Father went back again to Oxford to wait upon the King, and I was more at liberty again, and pestered again with my old Companions, especially after the departure of my Tutor, which was not long after: but in the midst of my idle and sensual life, I had intermissions of consideration not without some trouble; my bashfulness, which I always had in a measure more than ordinary, did much incline me to drink, finding that did embolden me: for which reason I have wished I had been brought up at some public School, rather than in my Father's House; supposing that strange company, and being from under the tender wing of my dearest Mother, I might have been roused up, by being put more to my shifts; and my bashfulness abated, by being accustomed to the company of strangers. And indeed I found manifestly, that being so much confined to home, through the careful fear, and love both of my Father and Mother, bashfulness and melancholy did so gain upon and take root in me, that it was always a great disturbance to my life: I found likewise my memory both slow, and not retentive, occasioned by that fixtness which was upon me, and that occasioned by the want of business to employ my memory, and inform my judgement, and excite my thoughts, which contributed much to fix me more in melancholy, and want of confidence; which though not so considered of by my Father and Mother, yet I found manifestly in myself, it was a great occasion of mischief to me, and did expose me to a loose life: But Lord, had I stirred up in myself that stock of Grace, and those Divine Principles, which were infused into me by thyself, the fountain of holiness and purity, and the instiller of holy motions, thou wouldst undoubtedly have come into my soul with such controlling power as would have reduced my disordered mind to an obedience to thy heavenly will, the absence of which hath bred in me so great matter of discomfort: but if thy goodness shall spare me for so much future obedience as may place me in the favour of thyself, I shall more esteem it than thousands of Gold and Silver.  

A Prayer.  
I Desire, Eternal Jesus, to call upon Thee from the depth of my sorrows; upon Thee, O Divinity incarnate, whose mercies are bottomless, and whose Merits can bury the most vast extuberances of repent sin from the eye of thy Father's Justice, and secure the relenting sinner from the stroke of his Omnipotent hand; which nothing can intercept but thyself, who art all, and whose entire Obedience can answer all the objections of Divine fury, and out-wrastle Justice when she makes her greatest assaults. But O my presumptuous soul! though it be true that the Mercies of God in Christ exceed all proportions, and that there are continual springs of compassion, which are ever flowing from the breasts of his goodness; yet how can that avail thee, while thou art bathing thyself in sensuality, and courting thy treacherous lusts, who were the murderers of the blessed Jesus; whom if thou chase from thee, which thou must needs do, if thou welcome thy sins, she goes along with the blessed Lamb, and never leaves him; where he is, she is still to be sound; and had not he come into the visible world, she had never presented herself to mankind, but they must have been ever separated from the Glories of Eternity: What can the best extracted cordial do to a man who is naturally dead? neither can these cordials of salvation advantage thee who art spiritually so. Most blessed Lord make me a subject capable of thy mercy by faith and repentance, for else the preparations of thy mercy will be my greatest misery; to see redemption at a distance, causeth a languishment of the soul here, if she have any residues of Grace while mercy is not irrecoverable: but to see her removed, when she can never return, yet so many times offered in the day of Grace, is the most bitter ingredient of eternal misery.  
Suffer me most glorious Jesus, who am but dust and ashes, to speak unto my Lord; and let me ask at the mouth of wisdom, how it comes to pass that my heart should pant after thee now, and anon grow cold and disobedient? can Christ and Belial be inmates together? If I love thee and desire thee above all things to day, why do I leave thee next, since thou art more delectable the second day than the first, and the third day than the second; since thy essential sweets do not like those thou hast created, glut the appetite, but become the more grateful the more frequently they are tasted? Oh it is my original corruption which strives to demolish those reparations of Grace which are in my soul by thy death, and to obscure those reinfused sparks: But Lord let thy additional Grace, joined to that twinkling light which yet remains in me, improve it to such a flame by thy frequent supplies, that by its light I may discover my sins; and by its heat they may be consumed, who would betray me into that fire which should ever light me and ever burn me, but never consume me: Blessed Redeemer, I have not only my own inherent sinfulness, and the spirit of spirits separated from thyself to encounter withal; but there is another cause in nature which depresses my soul from rising up to her Lord, the flesh which is ever warring against the spirit; and besides the usual evils of it, there is more in me than the bodies of men do often bring with them; thou knowst it Lord, for thou made'st me, and since thou didst, I am silent; I know thou madest me to thy Glory: what though I have more of earth in the composition of my body than others have, by which the motion of my animal and vital spirits is obstructed; though my apprehension and memory be not so quick and retentive, if I obey my Redeemer, and hearken to his charms, the spirit of Jesus shall inspire and quicken my soul▪ which if it be nimble and active in its correspondencies to the Rules of Christ, I shall have a large amends for the spleen and dulness of my body: But when I have been troubled with the incumbency of this weight, I have not looked up unto my blessed Jesus, whom I might have seen through my thickest blood; since that excellent spirit which I am by Creation, doth not require the body to its sublime operations; but instead of this most injured Saviour, I have run to thy Creatures for help, yet that I might have done, for they had not been but to preserve my being, and support my natural life; but ah wretch that I am, I have made an inordinate use of them, and turned thy blessings into my own curses instead of putting my soul into a more serviceable estate for thy glory, by correcting the disproportions of my temperament, I have defaced her beauty with intemperance, and exposed her to the assaults of Lusts, and Devils: But Oh most meek and merciful Jesus, though I made a resignation of myself, thou didst not give me away by substracting the residues of thy Grace, but my spirit even in her most deliberate aberrations from thy Rule, was the object of thy infinite mercy; and as thy Apostle St Peter in his diffidence was supported by thy graciously extended Arm from being drowned in the sea of waters, so was my soul secured by thy stupendous compassion from being overwhelmed by the consequences of my sin: Most dear Jesus, inflame my soul I beseech thee so with thy love, that being set on fire with thee, it may like unto these elementary flames which thou hast made, be still tending upwards in heavenly aspirations, till its desire shall arrive to a most happy fruition. Sweet Jesus my Redeemer, pardon thy Creature who dare thus to expostulate with thee; the inquiries into Men and Books return upon us with a retinue of errors, unless we come to Thee who art the Oracle of Divine Truth: It is most true, Lord, that we must use those means to attain Knowledge which thou hast laid before us; and not dream for infusions of truth to drop from thy treasures of wisdom into the gaping idleness of our life; such Enthusiastic Spirits must know their ignorance of the value of truth, that it should be so poorly attainable before they can be in a capacity of further information.   

A Prayer.  
O Eternal and most merciful Lord God, whose eyes are always upon the Children of men; look down I humbly beseech thee upon me, who in great distress of mind, and anguish of spirit, do here prostrate myself both soul and body before thy Divine Majesty, beseeching thee (who art the God of all consolation) to assist and comfort me thy poor Servant (though exceeding sinful) with refreshments from thyself, and let thy heavenly support be always ready to hold me up, that I may not sink under the burden of sad and melancholy apprehensions which so incessantly oppress my soul: Lord, let thy holy spirit from above so raise my dejected spirit from the depth of sorrow, and frightful imaginations which do continually assault me. Dear Father, I confess, that my life hath been a continual reiteration of sin, and daily repetition of all wickedness and impiety; that time which should have been measured out in praising and magnifying thy holy Name, hath been spent in the service of Satan that grand enemy of thy Truth and our Salvation; I have made a profession of godliness in outward appearance, but have denied the power thereof, as if I had favoured Religion for no other end but to preserve my Name from scandal and reproach; and so O Lord have preferred my own temporary credit before the honour of thy holy Name, and my own eternal safety; all the sins that in thy decalogue for a Christians life thou hast forbidden to be done, do I stand guilty of O Lord; and all the duties thou hast commanded thy people to perform, O Lord, I have neglected, and therefore all the judgements thou hast denounced against sinners, O Lord, I have most justly deserved: so that most righteous God when I look upon thy Justice recorded in thy sacred Word, and then behold my own sinfulness which I cannot see but in the same glass, I find such a disproportion, that nothing is then left to me but the expectation of thy everlasting displeasure: But dear Father, if thou whose most pure eyes cannot behold the least sin with approbation, shouldst strictly inquire into the Lives of men, even the best men; and be extreme to mark what they have done amiss, none were sufficient to stand before thee and endure thy touch, for there is none that doth good, no not one: But thou Lord hast another look wherein Mercy reigns in abundant measure, and casts so sweet regards towards the souls of repenting sinners, as can in one moment raise them from death to life, for which we bless thee, for which we praise thee O sweet Jesus the author and finisher of our salvation, who hast satisfied thy Father's wrath, and hast given us access by Grace through thy infinite merits; and here O Lord I am emboldened to renew my petition, first, for the pardon of all my sins passed in his blood, and then dear Father for all spiritual blessings and temporal which thou seest conducible for me; but especially, O Lord, in this Prayer, I beg for a cheerful heart, without which I cannot serve thee as I ought, being indisposed to those holy Duties which thou requirest from me by the incumbency of sadness, and a disturbed fantasy, strange fears and deep imaginations do take hold upon me, but remove them I beseech thee, and establish in me the fear of thy Name, and no other fear, sorrow or sadness for having sinned against thee; that I may be always merry in Jesus Christ, and may run with cheerfulness the race which thou hast set before me: Lord hear me for the sake of thy beloved Son, and my sweet Saviour, let my prayers and daily cry come before thee, but let my sins be never heard, O Lord; I will ever be lifting up my voice unto thee, Lord send me comfort from thy Holy Place, that while I live in this world, I may be a comfort and a delight unto myself, and not a burden, but above all things, a persevering Christian through Jesus Christ. Amen.  
FINIS.     

PHYSIOLOGIA: OR The Nature of EXTERNALS briefly discussed.  
SHOWING, That no true Pleasure can be derived from SENSIBLE OBJECTS.  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. Plut. contra Chrysip. 
LONDON, Printed by J. M. for Henry Bonwicke at the Red Lion in S. Paul's Churchyard, MDCLXXXI.   

TO THE Highly Honourable GEORGE DUKE of BUCKINGHAM His GRACE.  
My Lord,  
I Am encouraged from Your Grace's former Respects to me, and the honour of being related to Your Person, to dedicate to Your Grace this Enchiridion: The matter of the discourse in it, out of my Duty to Virtue, I dare not but call good, though not the management of it: since by the Rule of Morals, Good doth Constare ex Integris, and will not admit of the least Evil, or smallest Error into its composition. The simplicity of my intentions will only endure this touchstone, which I may safely say are to promote Truth, and no ways to obtrude Falsities. I humbly offer to Your Grace's Patronage, only that part of it which hath escaped misprisions; as for the other it will be enough that it be defended from the rude attacques of the world, under the Authority of Your Grace's Protection, though not of Your Approbation:  
Your Grace's most humble, and firmly devoted servant, George Freman.   

PHYSIOLOGIA: Or the Nature of EXTERNALS briefly discussed.  
BElzebub the Lord of Flies (as his Name signifies in the Hebrew) is with his swarms of revolted spirits continually buzzing about the Souls of Men, and suggesting to our minds falsities for truths: persuading us, that not Internal, but External things are the matter of true Pleasure, that so causing us to erect our hopes upon a rotten foundation, at the time of our death when that shall fail, the structure may fall to the ground, nay, much lower, even into the Abyss of despair.  
The sad issues of this suggestion, are much promoted by our Essential consistency of Spirit and Body: the material, and bodily part always disposing us to the pursuance of Outward things, contrary to the approbation of the Intellectual. But since the depravation of Man's Will by the fall of Adam, we are united to Error, and need not a Tempter to lead us out of the way; for both the Principles of our Being do now dispose us to wrong Objects: therefore to lay open this grand Fallacy, it being in a matter of so great concernment, as is the Eternal happiness or perdition of Men; let us examine what is requisite to the constituting of true Pleasure. To the making up then of true and real Pleasure, I shall lay down these three Conditions as requisite: First, That the Object be suitable to the Soul. Secondly, That the Soul be put into Fruition of this suitable Object. Thirdly, That the perpetuity of this Fruition be insured to it. Now let us inquire, whether External things, considered simply in themselves, and not relatively, as they have respect to greater ends, have these three Conditions in them, or no. First then: Is any External thing an Object suitable to the mind of Man? I answer, That no External thing is: because they all want two Qualifications which are requisite to make an Object suitable to the mind; the first of which is, That it be congeneal and of the same nature with the Soul: that is, a substance immaterial, or spiritual. The second, that it have in it a sufficiency to gratify all the Appetites of the Soul. First, No outward thing is immaterial, or spiritual, for a spiritual substance comes not within the notice of our senses: and though in Scripture we read of the appearing of Angels, as three to Abraham, two to Lot, one to Cornelius, another to St Peter: yet this must be supposed to have been by the assumption of bodies, to which they were united, not essentially, but occasionally, and pro tempore: for in other places the Scripture tells us what their natures are; calling them Spirits, Psal. 104. vers. 4. Heb. chap. 1. verse. 14. and although I find no decisive Text, for that Opinion of the Church of Rome, that there is a Tutelary, and a seducing Angel, attending upon every Man and Woman, and likewise Children, which was indeed held amongst the Heathen, under the terms of bonus, and malus Genius; yet it speaks indefinitely, Heb. 1. 14. that they are all ministering Spirits for the Elect: but notwithstanding their presence appears not to them, when they come in their own Natures. So likewise the Souls of Men are not within the notice of our senses, being Spirits, and incorporeal substances, as Angels are: for which we have the testimony of Scripture; Man was made after the Image and Similitude of God. But since the sense of these words, Image and Similitude, is much controverted in the Schools, let us look into the twelfth of the Hebrews, at the ninth verse, Furthermore, we had fathers of our flesh which corrected us, and we gave them reverence, shall we not much rather be in subjection to the Father of Spirits, and live? where Souls are called Spirits in opposition to flesh. Besides the Testimony of Scripture, we have a demonstration of their nature in the death of every Man, for though the Soul be separated from the body, yet the standers by see it not: we hear nothing but the groans of the dying person caused by the motion of Parts; we feel nothing but a coldness in the extremities of the body, caused by the cessation of motion; we smell nothing but a putrid savour caused by the corruption of humours, neither do we taste any thing: On the contrary, all outward, and corporeal things are obvious to some one of our senses: for instance; though we cannot hear the Light, we can see it; though we cannot see the Air, we can feel it; and though we taste not the white of an Egg, yet we can see it, or feel it; and though we cannot smell a piece of Glass, yet we can likewise see it, or feel it; and so of all material things that are at a due distance from the organs of our sense. And here before we look into the second thing requisite, let us examine why it is necessary that the Object be of the same nature with the Soul. Thus then; the Soul of Man being immaterial, that which makes it happy by the fruition of itself, must likewise be immaterial, for as it is a fundamental in Physic, that Nutrition is made by Similaries: so likewise is this assertion true in the Metaphysical complacency between the Soul, and the Object; it cannot receive a proper supply from any thing that doth not bear an affinity with it in its substance, and qualities. This reciprocal delight between Parties is discoverable in every species of Created Being's, and in every action in Natura naturata. In Physics, flame and flame embrace one another; but a furious conflict ariseth from the convention of fire and water: in Morals, goodness accords with goodness, but vice will not be suffered to dwell with virtue: and in the Metaphysical action of the contemplation of the Soul, we see experimentally, that she cannot content herself with inferior Objects, but is still seeking to herself some more excellent matter of delight: which desires of the mind intelligent men may take notice of in themselves, if they will be self-observers. This appetite of the Soul, is the reason why Solomon was not contented with all his clusters of delights; though he turned over the whole world, as it were, yet he arrived not to the sum of his desires, but still there remained in his spirit, an appetite after something more than any exterior thing could furnish him withal: so that at last he openly proclaims them all to be (excuse the catachresis) but full of emptiness. Seneca saith of Augustus Caesar, that he delighted to talk of laying down the Sceptre, and of betaking himself to a recluse life. And we read that the Emperor Charles the fifth resigned up the Low-Countries and Burgundy, and afterward all the rest of his Dominions, to his Son Philip in his life-time. And of the Emperor Theodosius, that he delivered up the charge of the Empire to his two Sons Arcadius, and Honorius, though with power to resume it, which he never did: and many other precedents of the same kind doth History present us withal, of which it is reasonable to think, that it was not only the troubles which usually attend Crowns, caused this in them (others being deputed to bear the greatest burdens in that kind) but rather, that all their enlargements could not present them with any thing agreeable to those secret appetites of their minds: and this dissatisfaction there is in all the entertainments of sense: by which it appears, that the great capacities of the Soul can never be filled up with these lean, and scanty Objects: and whiles that Capacity is unsupplyed, there will be a coveting of those things which are the proper Objects of its nature, and so long as there is that appetite, the mind cannot be said to enjoy true pleasure. But here I expect to have it objected to me, That upon this account, the Virtuous Man, as well as the Sensualist, cannot be said to enjoy true Pleasure, because the former as well as the latter, hath not while he is in the body his appetite satisfied: To this I answer, That when the mind is once set right, and hath made a choice of that which is intrinsically good, and suitable to its nature; immediately it begins to enjoy true Pleasure: because although it do still desire more, yet doth it not covet any thing better or of a more excellent nature, than it hath already tasted of, so that the desires of the mind are stopped quoad rem; because it doth not covet any thing contrary to, or desperate from what it hath already pitched upon; but not quoad mensuram rei, because it desires to be put into a full fruition of that, which it now enjoys but in part: upon which account the Kingdom of Grace and Glory, seem not to me to differ otherwise than gradually; so that the Spiritual man hath something of that he desires, but not all: yet so much as he hath sufficeth to bring him true Pleasure; though not to make up the integrality of it: while the Sensual Man pursuing a wrong Object, cannot possibly while he doth so, arrive at true pleasure. The second thing requisite to constitute, or make an Object suitable to the mind, is, that it have wherewithal to gratify all the appetites of the Soul: but no external thing can accommodate the mind with more than it hath in itself, that is, it cannot entertain it with spiritual delights: how far short will it prove then of satisfying the Soul with all it is capable of in spirituals? this being more than any created Intelligence can administer to it: for though we find many excellencies in Angels, and the Souls of Men, by the reason that they are intelligent Natures, yet they have not that sufficiency in them which is requisite to an Object that is in all respects suitable to the mind; which must not only present it with something spiritual and incorporeal, but likewise with whatsoever it can covet within the genus of spiritual and immaterial existencies; and this nothing can do, but that satiating Plenitude, which is only to be found in God: which appears to be true by that propensity which Men of large apprehensions have to inquire into those remote Truths which yet they cannot see clearly into: there is a 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, Rom. 1. 19 which hath such a Magnetic virtue in it, that it is always drawing the Soul towards itself, neither will the Spirit of Man be ever at rest, till it be united to the Son of God, and put into a full fruition of the Deity. How do we hear even young Students wrangle about the dividing of a body into so small parts, and that it is not capable of further division? for not conceiving how it can be, that so long as there remains something in quantity, that quantity should not be capable of being separated, at lest Intellectu, though not Actu, and yet not understanding how a body can admit infinite separations, they are still searching into this Abstrusity which remains with God. What Battologies have we about freewill and respective Decrees? not being able to distinguish between the precognition of God, and his concurrence of volition, or necessitation? how are we prying into the mystery of the Incarnation? into the nature of the Trinity? there are certain 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 which St Peter speaks of to be in St Paul's Epistles; which although they are things hard to be understood, yet are we still coveting to comprehend them; which aspirations of the Soul do show, that it was created for matters of a higher concernment, than any created substance can furnish it withal from themselves: for such things are to be found only in God, inhesively, or subjectively, but they may be communicated to us by Angels, who know them either by acquisition, or divine infusion: and these tendencies of the mind, are arguments to me, that the Soul of Man is capable of apprehending those abstracted Truths, which it so covets to know while it is in the body; because our pressing to know, seems to me to be an immediate effect, of our wanting, or being ignorant of something which our minds are comprehensive of: and therefore Beatified spirits cease to desire more, because their capacities are filled; which is perfect Happiness ad modum recipientis. But it may be objected, That the Angels which fell desired to be equal with God, but it was impossible it should be so, therefore we must not measure our capacities by our desires. To this I answer: First, that I do not believe they ever did, because, it must seem to be below the extent of their knowledge, which reached to so vast a height, to entertain with the least hopes such a childish Ambition, but rather that their Lapse did arise from a spleen, and malice to God for advancing Mankind so high: or if it could be so: we must distinguish between an undue, and vicious, and a natural, or necessary act of the will: I'll suppose theirs to have been an audacious, and arbitrary willing of that which was ipso facto destructive to their happiness; but these propensities of our Souls, which God hath so infused into us, that we cannot suppress them, are continual willings as it were against our wills, and are therefore natural, and to be accounted of, as the effects of our present defective state, and these I am induced to believe, will hereafter attain to, what they have strained for here. But not to make any farther digression: Let us inquire into the second thing requisite to true Pleasure, which is fruition. It is not enough that there is in nature an Object suitable to the mind, but there must be such an application of it to our persons, as may make us true Possessors of it: and here I cannot say exclusively, that there is no fruition in the Pleasures of sense, for were there not, the Devil would have no train at his heels, but they will be found to be very inconsiderable, and equivalent with none at all. And first let us consider the Glutton, who makes not that the end of eating which he should, namely the support of his natural life; as St Augustine, 
Confes. Lib. 10. Cap. 13.  Hoc mihi docuisti, ut quemadmodum Medicamenta sic Alimenta sumpturus accedam: How soon doth his sweet bit pass over the threshold of his tongue, and then his Pleasure is over for that morsel, consisting but in ipso transitu; and although he puts in another, and another, yet it cannot be long ere his stomach will be filled, and then he must cease repeating it, till Nature or Art have disposed of the Load after a Scene of sick Qualms: in the mean time the whole Machine is out of frame, especially the Brain which can least be spared, and he fitter to converse with the same Species of Creatures wherewith he hath filled his paunch, than with Men to whom he bears but an outward resemblance in the manner of his extension, and figure of his body. How momentany is the lascivious man's delight! he looks on a Woman, and lusts after her: if he gain not his purpose, her face is looked upon by him, with an impetuous Lust, and discomposure at her Chastity, so that her presence is a positive torture to him: if he gains her consent; his furious lust hurries him to that bestial act, where his fruition like a flash of lightning, dies in its birth, even in the midst of an impatient desire. 
Arist. Eth. lib. 7. cap 12.  Aristotle speaking of Venereal pleasure, says, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, Animum non exerceri in illâ. So likewise the Miser, how narrow is his Heaven! he procures his Money with bodily pains, hazard, and base submission; and the far greater part of his time being usually run out before he comes into his Kingdom, his reign is very short; and although the fear of not arriving to it, be vanished, yet the fear of loss, which is greater, rises up in the place of the former, besides the apprehension that so small a part of his life remains to him, for the enjoyment of what he has procured with so much difficulty. The Ambitious man what enjoyment has he? who after much bustling in the world, many dangers escaped, much expense it may be of his purse, gains his Minion Honour, and then holds it in Pride, which is a great pain to him that gives entertainment to that Vice; because his Reverence seldom, or never answers his expectation: for the Wise and Virtuous, (who are the venerable part of the world) cut off their respects to him, out of a just disesteem of his Person, or it may be out of charity to him; that the disregard he meets with, may be to him as a Julep, to allay the Fever of his Pride; giving him only precedency, his Title, and the compellations belonging to it, out of Duty to the King who hath conferred them upon him. From the immorigerous Nobility and Gentry, 'tis likely he receives none at all; because their uncultivated stoutness will not stoop to any circumstances of observance; and as for the common scrape that are made to him, he values not those submissions, because of the meanness of the Honourers; it being a good Moral Thesis, that, Honour est in honorante. And now for the good Fellows (as they are called,) what Pleasure have they? By the raising of the Animal spirits to an undue pitch, they draw down their Souls; the Soul and the Body being in this case like a pair of Buckets in a Well; as one rises, so t'other sinks, and being fallen from the delight of a sober Speculation, to the pitiful tickle of an impertinent mirth; what with broils, arising from mistakes incident to such fantastic converses, or else the surprise of a drowsy intoxication, he hath very little time to enjoy his loss; Intemperantia desinit in nihil, saith St chrysostom; Intemperance ends in nothing, or at least in no good, which in the sense of the Schools, is nothing: but those privations, or nothings, will I presume in the end, from the sad consequences that issue immediately from them be concluded to be positive, and that men's Souls are not positively damned for doing nothing. But here it may be objected: That although there be little, or no pleasure in excess, yet in the moderate use of outward things there is. To this I answer: that there is indeed more, but even this will be found to be very inconsiderable: For External things considered as they stand alone, (under which notion I still consider them in this discourse) and being not chosen in reference to greater ends, yield but very little Fruition to their Incumbents. And one cause of this is, in that they always glut the mind by reason of the deficiency of their being. 
The first reason taken from the deficiency of their being.  If a man would please the sense of seeing by looking upon a handsome Woman; when his eye by often repeated searches (since all the lineaments of Beauty were never confined to the precincts of one face) hath discovered all the attracts, and impresses, with all the variations of Aspects occasioned by the different motives either from within, or from outward objects, till at last he is entertained with nothing but frequent returns of what he had seen before, the disposedness of the mind to a perfect object, makes him covet to see some circumstance of Beauty, which is not comprehended within the Scene of that Woman's person: from whence presently ariseth dissatisfaction, namely from the objects insufficiency which is inconsistent either with the duration or solidity of Pleasure. Therefore Conjugal fidelities, are restraints put upon the mind, whereby a man resolving to comply with the Divine Will, rescinds the irregularities of his own. If we run through the whole series of outward things we shall find them so: whereas on the contrary, as Seneca tells us, Magis Veritas elucet, 
Sen. Tract. de Irâ l. 2. c. 29.  quo saepius ad manum venit: The more we converse with Truth, the more we are delighted with it. Again, Outward things have another great perplexity in them, 
A second reason drawn from their multiplicity.  which the Sensualist often meets with, arising from the Multiplicity of them: and that is, many of them present themselves to him at once, and though they all differ from one another in their kinds, yet many times they are equal in their attractiveness, and influence upon him; so that many times he is put to a stand concerning his Election, which is a pain to him because it detains him from Union; for where there is a love of any thing, there is a desire of being united to it: but after a troublesome pause, the mind fixeth upon one: not because there is a decision made of the question, and that the debate is ended, which of them deserves most; but because it is better to enjoy one than none: so that all the rest of them, being equally approved of, he carries the Ideas of them all in his fancy, though he do actually enjoy but one: which Impresses and Images in the Fancy, being many in number, and likewise fresh, and lively, draw him as forcibly to those which he hath left (their number, and the lively traces of them which remain in the Memory, being opposed to this one, though present) and thus is he set upon a Rack in the midst of his fruition, and so much the more, because the present enjoyment falls short of expectation: which is another evil in outward things, that they never give so much as they promise: 
A third reason, their false Appearance.  for which there are two reasons: The first is, à parte Animae, because the preliminary, and foregoing apprehensions, which the Soul hath before enjoyment, do ever anticipate more excellency and solidity than is to be found in the object. The second reason is à parte Rei, because all outward things are more in appearance, than they are in experiment, and acutual probation: the reason is, because the Soul looking on them in their approach, and doting on the gains which is coming towards her, concludes they are as thick in substance, as ravishing in their anterior fairness; but after they have met, and embraced, she finds, that they are both in haste to be gone, and are but a bare frontispiece of Beauty; like the Portraitures of Kings and Queens, painted upon a flat, which behind, are nothing but dusty canvas. 
A fourth reason drawn from the minds self-accusation.  Another thing which doth much lessen the pleasure of them, is, that the Soul in her reflex actions, is still accusing herself, and thus expostulating with her self: Why am I thus conversant about transient things? how long have I sought for true pleasure, and satisfaction in them but cannot find it? certainly I was designed for matters of a higher concernment; since I find I can look above them, and beyond them: how do I dishonour those noble Objects, and injure myself in descending to these mean entertainments? These and the like contrariant thoughts, are a great allay to those imaginary pleasures, and being mixed with the enjoyments, give them a very disgustful relish. These circumstances well considered, will I suppose very much shrink up that bulk of delight, which to the abused fancy seems to be united to outward things before enjoyment: even within the limits of Moderation, when it is distinct from Virtue. Let us now look into the third Postulatum, or circumstance required to make up true pleasure, which is the certainty of its Duration. The death of all men is so confirmed to us by Arguments à parte ante, besides the Physical reasons which are produced for the necessity of it, that he that should question the continuation of it à Parte post, may carry about him his Fantastic head, to dispute it by himself, till it be laid at rest in its own Grave, to receive conviction. Here then the question is, Whether the Sensualist hath any firm ground of hope for a reversion of his pleasures after Death. The Koran makes fair promises to Mahomet's disciples, that they shall meet with sensual Pleasures again in the next world, and if any Voluptuous man shall presume to urge the authority of it, he is but that in profession now, which he was before in Practice: But I do assert the contrary, that it is impossible, that the Sensualist should be re-estated in the same Species of delight, in which he solaced himself during his temporal life, or in any other, from reasons Physical, Moral and Theological. First then; the body will most certainly at its reunion with the Soul, exist after a manner as much different from this which is temporal, as to be eternally durable, differs from being dissoluble, or in a state of corruption: for eternal duration being that Divine Boon which shall be conferred upon the Totum Compositum, the entire person of man both Soul and Body; the Body which is the material part, and which will be the Instrumental or intermediate cause, under God the Efficient, of its own duration, being by the wisdom of God fitted with those affections, and properties, which shall be requisite to that great end of Eternal duration, will in degrees proportionate to those future consequences, differ from itself, as it is now under a state of corruption. For take any two different Effects in Nature, and it will be found, that the proximate, and immediate causes of them, do differ between themselves in the same degree that the Effects do: Ex. Gra. Take a piece of Wood and a piece of Iron; both of them smooth, and of the same figure, and bigness; the Wood swims, the Iron sinks: proportionably to the speediness of the Irons sinking, it must differ in solidity, or closeness of parts, from the Wood which swims. This similitude is very Analogical, and by the same reason the consistency of the Body in the state of Glory will as much differ from its consistency here, as the consequences of duration, and dissolution do, these being likewise two Effects of two immediate causes. Now then to come to the thing that is to be proved: therefore the objects of Pleasure must be likewise disparate from, if not adverse to what we meet withal here, because these here are terminable, of which nature there will be nothing after Death: For the Body and the Soul being made durable to all Eternity, it is most reasonable to think that all their Celestial Accommodations must be durable too; for else there would not be a completion of happiness, there being a discrepancy between the recipient, and the object. But to go a step farther: That a Sensual man should meet with his old ones, or any other sort of Pleasures after death, is oppugnant to the precepts of Morality. By a Sensual man I mean, such a one, as makes the attainment of corruptible things his ultimate end, whether under a Notion of moderation, or of excess: and the word excess is to be taken in a double consideration; either excess as to the quantity of the thing, 
Excess as to the quantity.  or excess as to the propriety of the thing. First, let us consider the person exceeding as to Quantity: The Miser never hath pelf enough to satisfy his avaricious mind; for he is always coveting more, while his thoughts, and appetite do terminate in Gold, and Silver as the ultimate object they aspire to: therefore he loves nothing beyond that, or above it; for if he did, the desire of that would in process of ●ime cease, and he would desire something beyond it, or above it, since desire is a necessary effect of Love, issuing immediately from it, as from its proximate, and contiguous cause: if then he loves nothing beyond it, or above it, he sins against his natural Conscience, which still presents the Deity to him, as an object which only merits the whole stream of his affections; for ignorance of which he hath no plea, since the universal voice of nature proclaims a Divine power; and in this every man is a Plato to himself. Here then is a Moral Trespass, or the Commission of an Act against the secret impresses of Nature. Now the mind presently enters into consideration, whether it ought to run counter to these infused habits, or not: if a thought propounds to it that it may; it presently asks, why then these Notions were Imprinted in it? either they were given in vain, or else that they should be practised: If in vain; that clashes with a Moral Axiom, Natura semper agit propter finem; if to be practised, than an accusation of Gild ensues: and from thence naturally arises, not an expectation of Pleasure, but of Mulct, from the Original Justice of that first Cause which fixed these Principles in the Mind. So much then for excess in Quantity that I may avoid the surplusage of Argument. In the next place, 
Excess as to Propriety.  I must take a view of the Person who exceeds as to Propriety. Every Soul not obstructed by some bodily Defect, is created with apprehensions and faculties able to discriminate between common right, and common wrong. For instance: To take any thing from another man which he holds by just right either of Donation, or of Legal descent; this cannot but be apprehended by any clear mind to be Morally Evil, that is, an Action of such a nature, that he cannot justify the doing it by right Reason. So is it in all cases of force, where men entrench upon that to which they have not this Natural Right: for I cannot trace Right or Propriety farther than the first Possession: whence, I see yet no reason so valid to the contrary, as this is, to make me conclude that the Protoplast was Lord and Monarch of the Universe, he being not only actually seized of it, but having likewise received an unlimited Commission from God to exercise Authority over all things as we may read G. C. 1. from vers. 26. to the end: from whence it appears, that absolute Monarchy was the first Power that overlooked the earth, and that it was afterwards propagated in the world, (though not individually, or under one person for the whole) as we may collect from the Prerogatives which the Kings of the Nations had in the time of Samuel, 
1 Sam. Cap. 8.  (a place cited by Salmatius in his Defensio Regia) whereas there are no forms of stipulated Government but appear to be accidental, and superinduced by reason of succeeding dissensions, arising from great Communities of men. But to return to my purpose: If then there are such primitive Aphorisms, and simple Impresses of Truth, fixed in the Soul from its first Creation, that man cannot but rationally conclude himself an offender against that Eternal Truth from whence these communicable notions were at first derived, who goes contrary to them doth ill: for, as I said before, either these Principles are implanted in us in vain, or else that we would conform ourselves to them: to say it was in vain, is profanely to impute to God the weakness of Idiots and Children, who do Actions insignificant, and to no determinate end or purpose; if then they were given to be put into practice, a man's natural Conscience must of necessity bring him in guilty upon his deviation from these rules; but Gild cannot expect a reversion of the same, or an accession of any other kind of Pleasures after death; but on the contrary, consigns the Delinquent to a certainty of future punishment: and if in the third place any man shall say, that these Notions were infused into us purposely to deceive us, his objection deserves no answer, it being so horrid and impious. Having spoken of excess I am now to examine what attends upon the moderate use of outward things; and in short, the moderate and decent Sensualist will miss of future happiness, because his love doth acquiesce in the thing: for 'tis not the extravagancy of the Action, but the proposed end, which separates it from being good; therefore the same Argument serves for both, since these two persons differ between themselves no otherwise than gradually, for no specific difference doth result from the inequality of bad and worse. ●. And now to come to my third Argument; If the Disciples of Nature cannot but expect correction, then by an argument à minore ad majus, such as have been brought up in the School of Christ, and have known Gods revealed will, cannot but expect confusion for their defaults, instead of the return of the former, or of any other kind of Pleasure: for as the Scripture saith, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉▪ 
Luk. 12. v. 47.  And that servant that knew, etc. Thus have I made a short inspection into the Nature of Externals, showing that they have none of those three conditions in them which are required to the constituting of true Pleasure. First, that they are not Objects suitable in their Natures, much less adequate to the mind, since to make an Object adequate it is not only requisite, that it be immaterial, 
Ens unum verum & bonum.  but likewise that it be Divine. Secondly, that although there be some fruition of them, yet it is so often rescinded, and so much complicated, that it is not to be reckoned of: and thirdly, that it is but temporary and ends in Death: and after death, the result of sensuality is inevitable misery, when we look at outward things as our ultimate end, not using them rightly, as instrumental to the great designs of Religion: much more will they prove destructive to such as are vicious to so great a degree, as that they run into intemperances', and make these outward things become noxious to them by offending in the manner as well as in the measure, 
Miser qui laetus ad miseriam descendit sicut stultus ad crucem. Theophylact.  of using them, and so go on sporting to everlasting ruin: but if we be careful in both respects to make a right use of Outward things, 
Gen. 1. v. 13.  they will prove Salutary to us, since every thing is delivered out good to us, by the hand and verbal approbation of the Creator; but our abuses of them poison them, and make them destructive both to our Temporal and Spiritual Life, whereas they were prepared by God to usher in the solid joys of an Eternal world.  
FINIS.