but these are they who are most apt to tremble at the near and grim Countenance of Death, and foonest discover their Weakness and Despair.

If there be any that feem to laugh at Death, their Laughter is only an Appearance upon the Lips. They are like a Child newly born, that feems to fmile when it is inwardly tormented in the Bowels; or like those that eat of the famous Herb mentioned by the Herbalifts, which causeth a pleasant Laughter to appear upon the Lips of fuch, into whofe noble Parts it conveys a mortal Poyfon that kills them.

There be fome, I confefs, that die without any Con

cern;

but these are either brutish or fenfelefs Perfons, much like unto a fleeping Drunkard, who may be caft down a Precipice, without any Knowledge or Forefight of the Danger; or they be pleafant Mockers, who are like the foolish Criminals that go merrily to the Gallows; or they be fuch as are full of Rage and Fury, whom I may very well compare to an enraged wild Boar, that runs himself into the Huntsman's Snare: Such Monsters of Men deferve not to be reckoned amongst Rational and Understanding Creatures.

CHA P. II.

That in all the Heathen Philofophy, there is no folid and true Comfort against the Fears and Apprehenfions of Death.

TH

HERE are certain Empyricks that seem at the first Discourse to be very well fkilled in their Art, that talk of Diseases, and of their Caufes moft learnedly and acutely; and nevertheless, in their

Practice

they are both unhappy and ignorant. Their unfeafonable Learning disturbs the Patient more than their Phyfick eases him; and increases the Sufferings of the languishing Body. Thefe kind of Phyficians very well defcribe to us, in this Particular, the Properties of the Heathen Philofophers. For when they reprefent the Calamities of our human Condition, they fharpen their Wits, and discover all their Skill and Rhetorick. Some of them laugh ingeniously at our Miferies, others artificialy weep to behold them. But in all their Writings and tragick Expreffions, we find not any folid and fincere Comforts to ftrengthen us against the Apprehenfions of Death. Therefore their contemptible and vain Fancies oblige us to tell them, as Job his troublesome Friends, Your Remembrances are like unto Afbes, your Bodies to Bodies of Clay, Job xiii. It is true, fome of those learned Philofophers have very well spoken, that we begin to die as foon as we begin to breathe, that our Life is like unto a Candle that lives by its Confumption, whereof the Flame devours and confumes it: For the natural Heat that entertains our Life, infenfibly undermines it; it is that which spends our radical Moisture, that yields the fame Benefits to our Life, as Oil to a Lamp, or Wax to a Taper.

Others have as well faid, that our prefent Life is but a fwift Race from one Mother to another. They meant from the Womb of our Mothers that brought us into the World, into the Womb and Bofom of the Earth that will receive us at laft. For as foon as we are born, we run a fwift Race towards our Grave. At that Instant when we fly from Death, we approach infenfibly towards it, and, contrary to our Intention, we caft ourselves into its Embraces. Some of the fame School have compared Man to a Bubble upon the Water, that rifes and fwells, and immediately decreases and breaks. Others make him like unto the waterish Bottles of divers Colours, that Children blow with their Breath, and deftroy with the fame. In Truth, all Man's Beau

ty

ty is but a vain Appearance that vanishes away in an Inftant, Ifa. xl. All Flesh is like Grafs, and all the Glory of Man like the Flower in the Field, 1 Pet. 1.

One of these great Philofophers being afked, What the Life of Man was? anfwered never a Word; because such a Question deserved none, or rather because he would imitate the Cuftom of his Age, of fpeaking by Guefs, and fymbolical Representations. For that Purpose he entered into a Chamber, and paffed out again at the fame Inftant, to fignify to his Difciples that queftioned him, how that Man's Life is but an Entrance in, and an Egrefs out of the World; the one fucceeds immediately the other.

Another of the fame Sect walked in a Bravado two or three Turns, and then shrunk into a Pit, to fhew that our Life is but a kind of Masquerade, a vain Appearance that foon vanifhes: When Men have well admired themselves in their Splendor, and have drawn to them the Looks and Efteem of the World; Death furprizes them, and spoils all their Luftre, and covers their borrowed Glory in a mournful Grave. It is with us as with Actors in a Comedy, the one represents a King, the other an Emperor; the one a Counsellor, the other a Minifter of State; but when the Comedy is ended and the Garments changed, you know not which is which. We are like Counters upon a Table, fome fignify Units, others Tens, others Hundreds, and others Thousands and Millions; but when they are fhuffled together, and put again into the Purfe, the vaft Difference appears no more. This is a lively Image of all Mankind; for in this Life fome appear upon a Throne, others are feated upon a Dunghil; fome flourish in golden and filken Attire, others are cloathed with Nakednefs; fome command as Princes, others fubmit as Galley-Slaves; fome are fed with exquifite Dainties, others must be content with the Bread of Affliction. But when Death has caft them all into their Graves together, then they appear without any Distinction,

All thefe witty Expreffions, and others of the like Nature, are pleasant and true, they teach well, and flatter the Fancy, but they afford no real Comforts. Therefore to all these learned Doctors, we may fay as Job by the way of Reproach to his Friends that added Sorrow to his Affliction, You are all Physicians of no Value, How then comfort ye me in vain? Job xiii. 9. When a Patient is afflicted with the Tortures of an unmerciful Gout, or of the Stone in the Kidneys, that forceth from him every Moment most grievous Sighs and Groans; if any fhould offer to paint before him his Looks and Grimaces, or fhould counterfeit them ingeniously in his Presence, he would bring him little Eafe to his Torments, but rather Increase to his Vexation and Trouble. The most beautiful Flower alfo can give no Delight to fuch as are racked in the Executioner's Hands, or tyed to four Horses that are ready to tear him to Pieces. Thus it is with the most eloquent and florid Discourse; it can bring no Comfort to a Soul that is departing; David's Harp alone can drive away the evil Spirits, and appease the Troubles of a wounded Conscience.

But fome may imagine in this general Survey of the wife Follies and Vanity of the Heathen Philofophers, I should except the Stoicks; I confefs, in this Particular, they exprefs more Gravity, but they proceed with no better Succefs; nay, when I have well confidered them, I find them to be far more infufferable, and more impertinent than the reft. For befides that they treat of the Immortality of the Soul in a very doubtful and inconfiftent manner; the pretended Comforts that they offer, render Death more dreadful.

They tell us, That Death is the End and Centre where all human Afflictions and Miferies ceafe; therefore it is rather to be defired; than avoided or feared. They might have fome colourable Reafon for this Conclufion, if they did but discover beyond the Grave an Happiness which they might now expect and hope; for Death affures them of no other Comfort, but only

to

to put a Period to all the Miseries of this wretched Life. Therefore fuch kind of Difcourfes are not properly Comforts, and the Refolution that they beget in us, is but a filly Paffion, much like that of a Criminal upon the Rack, who impatiently wishes for Death, that he might be delivered from the cruel Hands of the Executioners; and longs to be out of these Torments, to get on the Scaffold where he is to be broken upon the Wheel: O miferable Wretch the Change of Tortures will bring no Eafe to thy Pains. If thou canft not endure patiently the Ropes that unjoint thy Limbs, how wilt thou fuffer the Bar of Iron that shall crack all thy Bones in Pieces? O blind Philofopher! If thou canst not bear the Miseries of this Life, how wilt thou endure the Agonies of Death?

Moreover they tell us, That the most cruel and painful Death is a noble Occafion to exercise our Virtue, and to cause our Conftancy and Resolution to appear with Admiration. This Difcourfe feems to be plaufible, but in Reality it is nothing but Wind; for what availeth this apparent Virtue? it hinders us not from falling into the deepest Abyss of Torment and Mifery, but perifhes and dies with its Idolators. Therefore fuch as have moft admired it, have at laft acknowledged it to be but a Shadow; witness that famous and worthy General who fancied that his Virtue would procure to him the Victory over all the Enemies of the Commonwealth, in whofe Quarrel he took up Arms. When the Battle was loft, and all his ambitious Hopes had deceived him, being ready to ftab himself with his own Sword, he cried out, Ob miferable Virtue! what art thou, but a vain unprofitable Word, a Name without a Body! He thus exclaimed against his Virtue, that he had formerly adored, because it could yield him no Comfort in the Day of his Distress, nor free him from falling into utter Despair. The inoft ordinary and useful Comforts they commonly bring are thefe: That Death is inevitable; that we all enter into the World upon Condition to