A MEDITATION OF Life and Death. Translated with some Alterations out of the works of the Learned and Ingenious Eusebius Nierembergius. — Agnoscere solis Permissum est, quos jam tangit vicinia fati Victurosque dii celant, ut vivere durent, Faelix esse mori— Lucan. lib. 4. pag. 103. OXFORD, Printed by L. L. for THO. FICKUS Anno Domini 1682. HUMBLY DEDICATED TO Madam F. N. Madam, THOUGH it may seem an unpardonable piece of impertinence, to present a Meditation of Life and Death to a person, whose whole life (as appears by your Angelical conversation) is nothing else, yet since it is a subject of such importance that it can never be too much, or too often thought on, I thought it might not be altogether unacceptable to add Meditation to Meditation; especially since in this I was sure to hit your serious humour, and entertain you with a dish of your own liking. Life and Death, though two of the most common things, are yet none of the commonest Subjects in the world. For I believe generally nothing is less thought of; and perhaps for no other reason but because they are so common. I dare not promise you any thing new here, perhaps I might another, but you I dare not. However I hope you will not blame the barrenness of the Author, but impute it to the excess of your own thoughtfulness, the Anticipation of your Closet. For my own part I was so pleased with a great many sententious Remarks and pithy expressions, which occur in this Discourse, that I thought I might without any Prodigality of time, employ two days in the Translation of it. But if the product of two day's study can afford you one hours' entertainment, I shall think my time could never have been better spent. But not to detain you any longer from these, or your own more weighty Meditations, I take my leave of you, with this real and unfeigned protestation, that I am Madam, Your most humble and devoted Servant A MEDITATION OF Life and Death. LIFE in the opinion of most men is the greatest good, and Death the greatest evil. But they are in this, as in other matters of greatest concern most mistaken. For rather Life is the greatest evil, if we don't live well; and Death the greatest good, if you don't lie ill. Neither can you die ill, unless you live ill. Life if it be not good ●oes but unfold a larger scene of Vice ●nd misery; Death if not evil, puts a period to all evil. That wicked men think amiss of Death is no more a wonder, then that a vitiated Palate, disrelishes the sweetest Hony. If it be evil, 'tis to them only who have made it so by an ill Life. There is not one sufficient reason why we should hate Death, but many, why we should desire it. Whether we consider it alone, or with its attendants. Whether we consider the evils from which it frees us, or the good into which it instates us. If we consider tha● it is not evil in itself, nay that it 〈◊〉 good. Or suppose it were an evil, th● would not counter pois●● the good which it brings, or were i● n●● goo● that would ●old no proportion wit● the evil it removes. I know nothing in Life considerable besides an emulous throng of calamities, whose very multitude overwhelms our fear and which have this only wretche● Lenitive to make them tolerable their own commonness, and daily incursion. 'twas the opinion of Orpheus that Life was the punishment of Souls, and such a one to, whereby the Living were commensurately bound fast to the Dead. The latter part at least is true, for by Life the pure and eternal Soul is Wedded to a Gross and Corruptible Body. Should God on a sudden with his Almighty Fiat speak a man into Being, endowed with a free and perfect use of his thoughts, and give him an entire prospect of all Mankind, he would not sooner cast about his Eyes, but he would meet with some miserable objects, which would call for his fears. Either he would see some Blind, or some Maimed; some Lame, some Begging, some Decrepit, some Languishing, some Quarrelling, some commiting Murder, some Mad, and almost all, Weeping. And could he look into the insides, he would find all tormented with Desire and Discontent. Surely such a dismal Scene of things would make him repent of his newly received Being, and fall in love with annihilation. And therefore cunning Nature doth leisurely and thriftily dispense the use of reason to Mankind, that we might not startle at the sudden appearance of evils, but by custom might be brought to bear them with less impatience. A piece of policy much like that of the Emperor, Who Cloistered up his Son from his Infancy in a Magnificent Apartment, and to keep him unacquainted with the condition of Mankind, took care that he should never see nor hear any mirerable object That no Poor, Diseased, or Old man, should ever come in his fight, and that nothing should be said, or done, but what was highly pleasing and acceptable. A vain project to think to keep out Grief with Cloisters and Walls, to shut the Gate of the Palace against Melancholy, when the door of Life stood wide open. The very diversions themselves were an ●nlet to Sadness, and Melancholy crept ●n through the Satiety and Fatigue of pleasure. Change is so much an Ingredient of all Human delight, that an uninterrupted state of Joy occasions sadness. Certainly though the Emperor could keep off all miseries from the Sight of his Son, yet he could not from his Mind; and though he could secure him from other calamities, yet he could find no preservative against desire. His Son began to long and grow sad in an Elysium of pleasures. And what do you think 'twas he desired? Not to live so pleasantly. He began to complain of the tediousness of ●his too indulgent fortune, and Petitioned the Emperor to uncloister him from his wretched happiness. A Petition which put his Father to a great straight, who for fear of giving offence to his Son, was fain to alter his resolution he had made, never to displease him. He consented to his liberty, but withal took special ca● that no sad object might come in h● way. He gave order that all Blin● Deformed, Maimed, Poor, and Old me● should be removed far off; but ala● when was diligence so fortunate as t● conceal all miseries? They are s● numerous that they cannot be hid● much less quite taken away. Powe● was here unable to contend with h● man infirmity, which in spite of th● Emperors endeavours, discovered i● self. 'Twas the fortune of the youn● man to light upon a Blind Cripple and a Leper. He startled, and stoo● amazed at the strange spectacle, a● if he had seen an Apparition. He asked what it was? And when he knew that these were the fruits or human● Life, he had his antidote against al● the pleasures of it, and took a disgust against Life itself. And that h● might have as little of it as was possible, where fortune had possession o● the greatest part, he presently renounced, if not his Life, yet the hope of 〈◊〉, or what is with many of equal value, 〈◊〉 is Crown and Dignities. He took sanctuary at that which is most like ●eath, obscurity and privacy, where ●e might enjoy security at least, if ●ot safety. Now if from such a small occurrence he took such a disgust at ●ife, what would he have done, had ●e took a general survey of the world, ●ad been presented with a Scene of Mortality, Charnel-houses, Skulls, Dead Bones and Worms? Had he ransackd ●ll the corners of the earth, and seen ●hose sordid Foundations, on which Life is built, the dedication of our misery celebrated by the pangs of the Mother, and the tears of the Infant. What if he had looked into our bed Chambers and breasts? He would ●ave seen us in Tears, Desires and loathing; one bewailing his Wife, ●n other his Children, one hungry, ●nother surfeited, one carking for necessaries, another uneasy under superfluities. What if he had see● no house without some misfortune in it? What if he had seen all tha● were Wracked with the Gout, Ston● and other Maladies? What if he had seen all that Languish under Sickness all that were distracted with Cares all that were discomposed with desires? This certainly would have prejudiced him against Life, against the World where we so die in miseries and miseries live in us. How glad would he have been to hear of a way of setting himself once more at liberty! I fancy he would extol Death a● the best invention in the World. Suppose a man were hedged round with a circle of Wild Beasts, her● saw a Tiger rushing upon him there a Lion putting forth his Paw t● devour him, and in an other plac● a Venomous Serpent hissing at him what would not this man give to purchase a freedom from this assembly o● mischiefs? what happiness would he think greater than to be rescued from so many dangers? and will it be a less to be snatched from greater evils? we are environed with most furious and impetuous passions, and at all sides assaulted with misfortunes. We are in the midst of a whole Ring of Evils. Some we feel, and fear all. Now we have but one Sanctuary from all these evils, and that's Death. Were it not for this, there would be no end of our miseries. How comes it to pass then, that we dread that which is recommanded to us by as many Endearments as there are Celamities in Life. One would think danger were enough to recommend security. And there is no other besides Death. And therefore Socrates, after he had took his Deadly Draught offered a Sacrifice to Aesculapius the God of Physic, acknowledging Death to be the Catholic Medicine for all Maladies. I think one of the most ridiculous, things Xerxes, ever did in his Life, and which well deserved the reproof of Artabanus, was when having a prospect of his Numerous Army from an high Hill he Wept, to think that within the compass of an Hundred years they should be all dead and gone. He thought it seems, 'twas pity Men should die so soon. But I think he had more reason to lament the flow process of that Funeral which is ushered along with an age of miseries. Without question if from his high Station he had seen human infelicities as well as Men, he would have dried up his Eyes at the remembrance of that universal remedy; Death, neither would he have feared that, which takes a way all that is to be feared. That can be no evil. Which is the only deliverance from evil. Should those who have tried both Life and Death be put to the question which ●hey would choose, either to reenter ●pon that, or to continue in this. ●one would choose Life but those ●ho were most unworthy of it, those ●ho lived ill. But as for those who had ●d a good Life, they would never repent of Death, or desire to return 〈◊〉 Life again, which they would dread ●ore now they were dead, than they ●d Death when they were alive. 〈◊〉 is said of Stanislaus, a Man of ●eat Integrity and Constancy, that 〈◊〉 gave one the Option of Life or ●eath, who told him he had rather 〈◊〉 again then live again. So that one ●fe was enough to Cloy him, whereas ●eath would endure a second trial. If Souls Subsist as Origen, Plato, ●rmes, and many of the ancient Phi●sophers would fain make us believe afore their Imprisonment in the ●omb, one would think they should ●auseat their putrid and narrow con●ement, where they are almost Stifled in Seminal impurities, and material Concretions. Especially if should be told them that they must ●●mued up 9 Months in this dark P●●son, and then above Ten years' mo● in the darkness of ignorance and error. Add to this. If they knew t● many Labours and Hardships th● were to undergo, wherein they wo● taste the miseries of Life before th● knew what it was to live. The Infat serves an Apprenticeship of misery fro● the very Cradle. The avoidance Hunger makes him break Prison the first. He goes out according Hypocrates, to Seek his living abro● when there is a dearth of provision home. And then falls out of one ●●sery into an other, which is wor●● What if he could peep out through Cranny of his Prison, and see all 〈◊〉 Miserable, Languishing and Decrep● Wretches that are in this great H●pital the World? He would s● back from the sight of so many ev● much less hazard the enduring of ●hem. Plato ascribes the suspension of reason in Infancy, and the erroneousness and ficleness of Youth, to that Consternation and fright which seizes ●he Soul at the instant when she is ●hrown down from her Orb of light ●nto this Vale of misery, this dark uncouth Dungeon of the World and ●he Body. Again what if he knew ●hat the most lightsome and pleasant part of his Life was most subject to ●ears, and that the flower of his age must whither in perpetual vexation, ●hat he must always live in a slavish dread of the Rod, and have his most ●iery jubilees soured and allayed with ●he awe of a Schoolmaster? Again what if he knew that that part of Life, which is most desired is most Calamitous? Multa senem fragilis vexant incommoda carnis. Name macie turpi tabescunt languida membra Tunc Genuum juctura riget venasque per omnes ●llius in toto frigescit Corpore Sanguis. Sic bacculo nitens artus sustentat Inermes Quid tristes memoreē genitus? quid taedia menti● Somnus abest oculis— Add to this the train of disease which then troop in together. Fo● old age is the Sink of Life. Here is a Stagnation of all filth. The Autumn of our Life is the Spring of our Infirmitys. Well may the Old man stoop when his burden is so great. But 〈◊〉 think Nature deals kindly with us i● this, that she banishes all pleasure from Old age, and summons in grief of all Sorts. That so we may be th● more willing to quit the Stage, and after the heat and toil of a tedious day to refresh ourselves in the shades o● Death. What a deep Tragedy now i● Life, which gins and ends in misery? I now no longer wonder at Isis for saying in his Sacred book that th● Souls were all in Sadness when they understood they were Condemned t● enter Bodies. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, says he. And Camephes thus describes their complaint. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, etc. What have we poor Creatures done amiss to deserve this punishment, to minister to a cold and humed Body? Our Eyes shall no longer see the divine Souls, since they are now straightened within little Orbs and Humours. But as often as we shall look up to our Native Heaven we shall fie, and sometimes we shall not be able to see so much as that. For we poor Creatures are condemned, neither have we an absolute power of sight, but dependent upon the Light of the Sun. Distance of place intercepts our sight; and we shall hear our cognate sou●s pitifully sighing in the air for want of our company. Now we are no company for them. Now instead of the high Arch of Heaven, our house must be the narrow compass of an heart. O if any one would lose us, from what, to what would he translate us! But thou O Lord, Father and Creator, who so easily neglects thy workmanship, set us some bounds, and vouchsafe to converse with us though never so little while we are here below. The souls Petitioned Death as a solace of life, and since 'twas their doom to live in the body at least at length to die. Next to not living at all, nothing was more desirable then to die speedily. So far is Death more eligible than life. There is not one part of life desirable to a considering person, because there is not one part free from sorrow and dissatisfaction. And therefore as a Traveller tired with going up a rough and steep Hill, is forced to stand still many times to recruit and take breath, that he may with the more ease perform the remainder of his journey: So the Pilgrim-Soul in this rough and uneven Life, wants the rest and pause of Death. whence she may gather a new supply of strength for the progress of Eternity. Our jaded Life will not carry us through in one continued course to Immortality. Such along journey cannot be performed without resting by the way. The Grave is our Inn, & from thence we set out for Immortality. Neither indeed can we stay so long till the pause of Death. We must have many intervals of rest, as wearied Travellers which bait oft by the way and and defer not their refreshments till they take up for all night. The importunity of our labours & troubles compel us to stop upon the Road before we take up our quarters in the Grave. What else are the constant returns of Sleep, but the pause and reparation of wearied and languishing life? So much is Death better than Life, that our Life is sustained by Deaths; Our Immortality depends upon Death, and our state of Mortality upon Sleep the Image and Shadow of it. Now to compare Death with Life. If that be the repast of this, it will consequently be pleasant. Or although it be not Sweet in itself, yet the trouble of Life will make it so. Weariness prepares the pleasure of rest, and whatsoever succeeds Bitterness is Sweet. 'Twas well said by Charidemus that Pleasures and Grievances were linked together in a Chain, interchangeably succeeding one another, so that the succeeding pleasure would b● proportionable to the proceeding grie●viance. Now what greater grieviance than our Mortal Life, and consequently what greater pleasere the Death? Phalaris said that Life is therefore pleasant because we know of n● greater evil than Death. But h● speaks the Sense of the vulgar, an● yet to the discredit of Life too, find it must be beholding to an evil to recommend it. I should rather have said. That Death ought to be thought pleasant because there is no greater evil than Life. And yet we are flattered on by the emergent happiness of some men. But why do we look upon those who have escaped shipwreck? We should rather consider those that are drowned. These are innumerable, and yet are thought few, because they don't appear. Let not now the Tears shed at Funerals be alleged against what has been said. This depends all upon the opinion of the vulgar. And indeed every one laments rather himself, then him whom he calls dead. I say do not allege the Tears of others, you may your own. 'Tis a man's own thinking which makes him either happy or miserable. What argument is it for the preference of Life before Death, that others weep When you die, if when you are born you yourself weep? 'Tis a folly to rate our miseries by other men's opinions. Contrary circumstances attend our Death and Nativity. At the Birth of a man others rejoice, but he himself weeps, at his Death others weep, but he will rejoice, unless his Death be imbittered by an ill Life. Neither are we to think this gladness the less, because calm and inward, and not so obvious to the sense. The Infant that wept at his Birth, by sleep learns to smile says St. Austin. He dedicates the Image of Death, with a smile, who gins his Life with Tears. A notable presage of the miseries of Life, and of the happiness after Death. Weeping is narural, we need no teaching to dissolve in Tears; joy is a difficult Lesson, slowly learned, and not without Discipline. 'Tis one of the precepts of Seneca, learn to rejoice. Sleep gives us a sip of joy, but Death the full draught. Grief and Misery are Natural and Born with us, but joy advances more leisurely. For we may credit Avicenna, the Infant has no sense of joy till after the Fortieth day. The reason therefore why others weep at thy Death is because they never made trial of it, and the reason why they rejoice at thy Birth, is because they are not to live your life. You alone, who can best presage human condition, refuse it with Tears, which are the language of unwilling nature. And as the Ceremonies of our Birth are contrary to those of our Death, so is the condition of the one contrary to that of the other. Death either inverts or restores all things. Or rather restores by inversion. For the inversion of things that are upside down, is the way to set them right. 'Twas a Funeral Ceremony in use among the T●bitenses to turn their garments inside outward. Death itself is termed a change, and 'tis our last and greatest, for all beyond it is a State unchangeable. The change is from confinement to liberty, from Time to Eternity, and (unless it be our own fault) from misery to happiness. Fortune is commonly preferred before Life. How many are there who prodigally throw away their Lives in the pursuit of a Kingdom! But is there any proportion between Fortune and Happiness, between a speck of Ground, a Point, and the Kingdom of Heaven? Death adds so much to our happiness as it cuts off from our Life. Before present admission into Heaven was procured, long Life was proposed as a reward to the good Patriarches; but now when there is an immediate access to the joys of Heaven We falsely think it due unto our friends, That we should grieve at their untimely ends, 'Tis envy now to mourn their early, fate, He only dies untimely, who dies late. And yet we are not sufficiently in●amour'd with those Glories which Death leads us to. Sometimes we cast some faint long that way, and tho oppressed with miseries, are not yet enough desirous to be rid of them. The miseries of Life make us wish for Death, but yet Distrust and darkness of a future State Make poor mankind still fearful of their fate Death in itself is nothing, but we fear To be we know not what, we know not where We would sometimes be dead, but are unwilling to die. Or if under the pressure of some Pungent calamity we passionately court Death, the Fit is no sooner over, but we repent of our best Wish, like the Man in the Apologue, who languishing under his burden threw it down and invoked Death, but when it came and demanded his business he told it 'twas to help him up with his burden. So apt are those to hug their miseries who hope for better exchange We are tired with out Toil and Labour, and yet we resume the burden What Hungry man that stood on a barren bank, where there was no hope to relieve his Appetite, an● saw at the other side of the Rive● Trees laden with delicious Fruit would be grieved to hear of a Bride or be afraid to be rowed over in Boat, choosing to starve on the bank then hazard himself on the River 〈◊〉 O the unaccountable folly of Men We commit ourselves to the perfidious Ocean inquest of Gold, which lie at the Suburbs of Hell and yet we ar● loath to be Transported into our Celestial Country, to the Glories of eternity. Suppose there were no necessity of dying, but that every on● had the disposal of his own destiny yet he were a fool who would not hazard the attainment of felicity by Death, and had rather live always in a state of misery then by dying to end it. 'Tis a great folly to fear that which we would wish for, were there no such thing. Much more than should we bear Death patiently now 'tis necessary. The popular argument why Death ought to be born patiently is because 'tis a necessary evil. Here is a true consequent but a falls principle. For rather Death is a necessary good. However if an evil, requires patience on the Score of necessity, much more does a necessary good. Death as good, calls for our joy, as necessary for our submission. That is certainly a very great good which puts us out of the reach of misery, which frees the Captive without a Fee, which restores the Exile to his Country, without fear of return,, which sets at liberty the Slave, without the consent of his Master, which cures the Sick, without a bitter Potion, which redresses all the defects of fortune, and unequal dispensations of providence. 'Twould have been a less error if they had drawn an argument from necessity to bear Life patiently, for that more deserves the name of a necessary evil. For 'tis that which thrust you into evil without your election, and then Wheedles you into evil with your own Consent. 'Twas cunningly contrived by Nature that Souls should be unknowingly Immersed in the Body, and cast blindfold into such a sordid Dungeon. For who that is in his right will, at the last Gasp, would if he might reenter the Prison of his Mother's Womb, be nourished with filth, be deprived of light so many Months, and of sense so many years; run again the gandelope of Fortune, resume the senslesness of Infancy, the Fears of Childhood, the Dangers of Youth, the Cares of manhood and the Infirmities of Old age? I believe never any man had a life so happy, as to be willing to live it over again: Certainly if Life were offered to us without the condition of Death, what ever Happiness it promised else, it were to be refused. The likeness that is between Death and Good, is enough to take a way all Suspicion of its being evil. None live more happily thë those who most resemble the Dead. Death is the Idea and rule of the best Life. The greatest perfection of Life is to imitate Death, as every Heroical Person does when he abstracts his Mind from his Body, holds no commerce with his Senses, and Weds himself to the Divinity. On what account do you think 'tis that Sleep is often privileged with Visions and Revelations? God Loves and Honours the Image of Death. Ecstacie and Abstraction from Communication with the Body is one of the ways of Oracle, & I Prophesy. The Mind which is disengaged from the Senses is the more capable of Divine infusions. Besides what is Philosophy but the meditation of Death? And why not? Since the fruit of Philosophy is virtue, and virtue is the imitation, or incoation of Death. 'Tis the principal artifice of Philosophy to make Life pleasant by the imitation of Death, and Death by conformity of Life. The moral Death smooths the passage for the natural. The separation of Soul and Body is intolerable to him who has not disengaged himself from his passions, but must swallow down the bitter Potion of Death all together. Our very Meat would Choke us if we did not Mince and Chew it, and Eat it piece by piece. Death if taken by degrees will be gustful and wholesome; if we lop of one Passion to day, an other to morrow. There a test weight is portable, i● born by parts. Philosophy is an anticipation of Death which by daily Subtractions lessens its weight. What wonder is it if Death be insupportable to him who under goes a great many Deaths in one? The loss of one thing as of Honour, Pleasure, or a Friend, is enough many times to wound us to the Heart, what a Grief will it then be to lose all our Life in one moment? And therefore the Soul of a Wise man disengages itself from the Body by degrees, that it may converse with itself and God. She finds that she reasons more clearly, when withdrawn from the hurry of the Senses, and that she must retire a while from the Contagion of the Flesh, if she will speculate a refined truth. Truth is a pure thing and cannot be beheld but by a clarified and spiritualised Sight. Therefore the whole study of virtue consists in a separation of the Soul from the Body, and in near approaches to Death, which for that very teason it loves, or at least less fears. How can he fear Death, who by dying lived well? Who divested himself of more than Death can? Who has already drained all its force? Will he, who all his Life time endeavoured to Sequester himself from his Body, draw back when he is just about completely to enjoy his Wish? No Man will be troubled if what he hath a long time been labouring in vain to effect, be at last done by another, Nature finishes that by Death which virtue had begun in Life. The affinity between Death and Virtue may be farther illustrated from the exhibition of honour. For as virtue becomes Majestic from the resemblance it has of Death, so it commands reverence to be given to others as Death does. What can be more venerable than that for whose sake the most Wicked are not evi● spoken off. For as ill Men for the very awe and honour of Virtue will not own themselves so; assuming to themselves some imaginary excellency, so for the reverence of Death we spare those that have been evil, nay scarce ever name them without some commendation. So venerable is Death that it procures respect to the most contemptible. We are apt to praise him when dead, whom we envied when a live. according to that of Minermus 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. Envy stops short of this side of the Grave Every one speaks honourably of the dead. And what do you think is the ground of this esteem? 'Tis the current Philosophy even among the Vulgar to take them for happy which are exempted from the calamities of this Life. And all happiness is honourable. Neither is this honour given to the Soul only, but also to the Body, though now under the most vile circumstances. How awful is the sight of a Coffin! With what Majesty does it lie! What lectures of Morality does it suggest! We are not so composed in the presence of a King, as at the Sight of a Corpse. Nay 'tis not only Venerable but Sacred; The Honour of Burial is become a part of Religion. Another reason of the Goodness of Death, may be taken from the wholesome influence it has on our Lives. The Death of others profits us who see it, and our own profits them that Celebrate it. And certainly the best Philosophy is, to season our whole Lives with the meditation of Death. And therefore to this end Nature supplies us every Moment with Emblems of Death. The Chiefest of which is Respiration. We live by little Essays of Death, and Retain our Spirit by continual emissions of it. Nay that which most of all displeases us in Death, the certainty of the thing, and the uncertainty of time, and manner, is of great use to us. I take this mixture of certainty and uncertainty to be one of the most ingenious Stratagems (I may so speak) of divine providence for the government of Man kind. God would have us always good, and consequently always uncertain of certain Death. So that hereby Care is taken that the lateness of Death may not be an inducement to security, nor the suddainness to despair of reformation. But that the possibility of each may make Men careful, but not desperate. The possibility of a speedy Death allievates the labours of Life, and prevents the delays of virtue. For if a Man would be troubled if he knew he had but one Month more to live, how dares he laugh and neglect his duty, who knows not whether there remains a day, an hour? The World was never more vicious than when Men were longest lived. Then 'twas that nature required an expiation by Waters. And therefore I think Theophrastus, was very unreasonable to complain of nature because she had granted to some Brutes, a lease of Life for above Five Hundred years, whereas the Life of man the most excellent of all her works was so brittle and short. He erred both in his desire and in his judgement. 1 For wishing for so many years, and 2 For thinking that Life whose measure is action and not days, was to be reckoned by them. The time and manner of our Birth have some certainty, but there is no set manner of dying. 'Twas a Favour to set open more passages for a flight from, then for an entrance into evils. 'Tis therefore possible you may die at all times, that should live well at all times, that you should not live in that State which you would be afraid to die in. The easiness or frequent contingency of Death is no small commendation of it. Our Body and Soul are ill matched they are so easily divorced. There is no creature of so frail a constitution as man. He falls by the least accident, and shakes off his ill-suted Body. Fabius, was choked with an Hair, Anacreon, with a Grapestone. Baptista Mirandulous, died of the very fancy of a Wound. Honour killed Clidemus, exultation of Spirit Diagoras, Laughter Philemon. Life is so frail a possession, there is no need of violence, the very blandishments are enough to shake it. We receive our Life through difficulties, enjoy it with difficulty, and keep it precariosly. Any one may deprive us of Life, but no body can keep Death from us. That's as free to a Slave as to a Prince. The Emperor Leo imposed a Tax upon Births, but never was such a Burden put upon Death; The Infant was taxed at his entrance into the world, but 'twas ever free to die. Do you lament the unseasonableness of Death? All Death is seasonable to every age. It rescues Old age from misery, Youth from vice, and Infancy from both. It gathers old men as ripe, turns the Blossom of youth into Fruit, and compendiously ripens infancy. If thy Death could be put off a little longer, what advantage will it be in thy accounts of nature or happiness? They that 3000 years agone died unwillingly, and stopped Death Two days or a Week, what is their gain? Where is that Week? And yet poor spirited Mortals use arts of protraction, like the miserable Sinners at Noab's Flood. The waters drove them out of their lower Rooms, than they crept up to the Roof, having lasted half a day longer, they knew not how to get down. Some crept up to the top branch of a Tree, some climbed up to a Mountain, and lingered it may be Three days longer. But all that while they endured a worse torment than Death; They lived with amazement, distracted with the ruins of mankind, and the horror of their own approaching Death. Another thing which commends Death is, that it cannot be repeated. Tho some think that an unhappiness, hoping to mend that in the second Death, which went amiss in the first. All other afflictions are not so civil and courteous. They are importunate in their visits, come and go a Thousand times over. Death will not be troublesome, comes but once. But why would you have it repeated? To know by experience what 'tis to die? Neither do you want that conveniency. The fates are ingeniously contrived. Tho Death comes but once; yet it does not come all at once. It insinuates itself by degrees, makes several preliminary Essays. Childhood Death of Infancy, Youth the Death of Childhood, Manhood of youth, old age of manhood. The last Moment is but the consummation of what the first began. You may know Death by her retinue, shedding of Teeth, trembling of Joints, grey Hair, baldness etc. You cannot live a day without the taste of it. All succession of time, all the changes in nature, all varieties of light and darkness, every creature does preach our Funeral Sermon, and calls us to look and see how the old Sexton time throws up the Earth, and digs a Grave, where we must lay our sins or our sorrows. Sleep which is the Image of Death we daily experiment. We desire it, we are refreshed by it, 'tis the end of our labours, the deposition of our cares, the reparation of the man. Now the Image is never so excellent as the Prototype. If we love the shadow, why do we hate the substance? Nature intended Death as the comfort and support of Life, and therefore lest the delay of so great a good should make us impatient, has left us its image to solace ourselves withal for the persent. But suppose after all this, that all Death were evil and dreadful. Why then do we not care for that which we profess we fear? Why do we neglect that which we do not contemn? If it be evil, why don't we prepare for it? We make provision against other dangers though contingent; we arm ourselves against Casualties. Why do we not make preparation against that which we know to be necessary? There is a great difference betwixt contempt and neglect of Death. None provide more against it, than those who contemn it; none fear it more than those who neglect it; and what is more strange don't only therefore fear it, because they have neglected it, but neglect it even while they fear it. Who would think it possible that Men could be guilty of such incomparable Sottishness, who know that the only Security of Life is the assurance of an happy death, and that the only assurance of an happy Death, is the testimony of a good Life. FINIS.