CHAP. I.

MAny years had this Reverend Sire seen pass over his head, all which were spent in the exercises of his duty, and sanctified by the severities of a strict Piety and an holy Reli­gion; many brave heroick Atchievements he had performed; nothing he lest undone to bring back the dissolute Worldlings from out the ways of sin and errour, of blindness and an undiscerned death; he had gallantry of Soul enough to stand in the Gap against all opposi­tion, and boldly to resist the deviation in the Multitude; and he strove as much as in him lay, to reduce the Church, under which he li­ved, into its primitive Order and Purity.

Now finding all his pains and methods suc­cesless, himself lying under an heavy Interdict of the usurping Senate, and ready to be banisht the Island Albina, he resolves to withdraw a little, and hide himself in the close retreats of a Country-Shade; there to try in the last place whether or no the rustick Boors and Shepherds had forgot their honest simplicity, shaken off their old rural Innocence and Plainness.

Several leagues had he left behind the Royal City Megalopolis, and having passed above a days journey through nought but desolate and waste grounds, he came at last into a most de­licious Plain, or Grove, or Garden, call it which you please, overlooked by the tops of the Hills, and shaded by the pretty wild disorder of the Trees; which made it appear the Seat of pleasant Solitariness and delightful Melan­choly. A very rich lovely Champagn it was, bestrew'd with the green and flowry Tap'stry of the Spring, and set off by the careful hand of Providence with all the delicacies that Nature ever afforded; most curiously enamelled with inartificial Beds of Violets and Heliotropes, in­terspersed with the Anemony, the Hyacinth, and the Primrose. And by the four Arms of a small Riv'let, it was parted into as many pret­ty Isles. But that which commended it above all was, that it appeared not to be freque [...]ed or trodden by any men; wherefore he was [Page 56] glad to find himself at last a resling place, in which he thought to spend the poor remainder of his days. And designed (as did heretofore the Gen. 21. 33. first Father of Religious Pilgrims) to consecrate this Grove into a Temple, and turn every Tree into an Ora­tory, using the Boughs for Hosanna's to the Son of David, and Directions of the way to those that follow after.

Here the pensive and melancholy Hermit delighted to walk; and still at every step he made some pro­gress The Contempla­tive Life. towards a better and a more lasting Scene of Pleasures. Every thing he saw, added fuel to the pious ardours of his Soul, caused him to long for the Mansions of Eternity; that Spiritual Eden which he beheld faintly, as it were, reflected upon this spot of Land: Sometimes would he listen to the Mu­sick of the little chanting Birds, those vocal Choristers of the Air, and with them joyn concert in a sprightly Carol to the King of Heaven: And sometimes again the bleating innocent Animals that were grazing upon the neighbouring Hills, made him pity his own disconsolate and scattered Flock (committed to him indeed by the good Shepherd of Men, but) rapaciously stollen from him some while since by Thieves in a Pastoral disguise. Now casting his eyes Heavenward, (as if his divinely [Page 57] ravished Soul had eager longings to break her fleshie Gaol, and take flight thitherwards to that her Native Country, those pure unsullied Regions of Tranquillity and Joy;) he stood long contemplating on the admirable Beauty, the wonderful unconceivable Architecture of the Aetherial Orbs, the dazling light and splendor of the Sun; till wearied with too much intention, at last he lookt down, and at his feet he saw the Sun and whatsoever else in the Heavens he had with pleasure observed, to reflect their Images and glass themselves in those little beautiful Canals of running-wa­ter. So now he had two Worlds, and two Suns to contemplate; the one real, the other reflected: Which made him with sorrow think of those poor Souls who care not to look up so high as the Paradise in the highest Heavens, where are the onely real and permanent Man­sions of Felicity; but downward upon one that is no other but reflected and imaginary: Which whilst they strive to obtain, they do but grasp the very appearance of a watry Shadow, and thereby foolishly drown and destroy them­selves; meeting with, instead of Happiness, a dismal Disappointment, cold unexpected Death. But quite otherwise, these shadowy Represen­tations made him the better fix his mind upon Realities: these scanty Streams, shallow Cry­stal Currents, could send him to the Waters [Page 58] above the Firmament, the Rivers of Delight which are at Gods right hand. So that, by contemplation on and foretaste of those Joys a­bove, he almost thinks himself already here imparadised; which Solitude would the rather perswade him to think no mistake: Here Pi­son and Hiddekel, Gihon and Phrath, were be­fore his eyes. Nay, every Plant, every spire of Grass, the most neglected Flower, the most ordinary Herb, the smallest Insect, had all some kind of Image of a Deity enstamped on them. There was somewhat of Paradise he fancied in whatever he saw; and well might that place be counted Paradise, which could boast of the truly vertuous THEOSOPHƲS, (so was he called.) In this manner viewing a pleasant Vale, which another might perhaps have looked upon barely to feed his eye, or re­create his sense, he drew thence a Map of the Celestial Temple. Whereof he was thus alrea­dy possest in imagination and picture.

Now it happened as he was thus meditating with himself, he lighted unawares into a Path. He strait knew himself mistaken concerning the loneliness of the place; which he was soon further convinced of by reading several small Histories of Christian Palmers and religious Conferences, cut in the rindes of the Trees, with the names of EƲBƲLƲS and ORTHO­DOXUS underwritten; many Hymns and [Page 59] Verses composed in praise of Virtue, Raptures of a pure Coelestial Love, and passionate Bur­nings of an Heavenly Muse sighing after the Joys of PARADISE; under all which was subscribed ƲRANIƲS.

Hence the Pious Father over-joyful, pre­sently knew that it must needs be the Retreat of these his Friendly Coadjutors; and big with hopes, expected to find them here. And so he did: For not long had he sought them, before he heard the hacking of Axes hewing down the Trees all round about, and observed the narrow Rivulets to begin to be tainted un­naturally with a bloudy colour; when not far off he could descry his three dearest Friends, with their hands bound, hurried away Priso­ners, followed with shouts and reviling accla­mations; with loud outeries of Heresie a­gainst the most moderate and learned ORTHO­DOXƲS; against EƲBƲLƲS of distast­ful and pernicious Advice; and impure and doggril Rhymes they, as maliciously, laid to divine ƲRANIƲS his charge.

One would have thought, that to have ones greatest and fiercest hopes thus on a sud­den disappointed, had been enough to cast a sad damp over the most courageous Spirit that ever was. But all this could not in the least distemper the Spirit of the stout and the wise THEOSOPHƲS, who (that he mighty [Page 60] hereby teach us that the greatest evils and most surprizing accidents, do much rather re­quire the succours of Reason, than the violence of a disorderly Passion; nor ought therefore to discompose the evenness and tranquillity of our minds;) not suffering himself to be mo­ved, in imitation of his blessed Master, onely smote upon his breast, saying these few words, Not ours, but thy Will, O LORD, be done. Fearing not in the least but Heaven would take care of such vertuous Souls as these, and at last set them free by a merciful Deliverance, or a glorious and happy Martyrdom.

It chanced that he was not seen, or not re­garded, by any of those cruel men: for he be­ing but newly come hither, they who had deprived him of his Friends had not received yet the news of his removal from the City, and therefore made not here any search after him, (whom they would have much rather taken) but in the hurry they were in, let him escape to an adjacent Hill. The top whereof, which (like a rich man) proudly overlooks the under-hillocks and lower grounds, having with much trouble gained, he had before his eyes, by the help of a certain Telescope (which is the free unprejudiced Operation of Right Reason) to render the Objects more visible and distinct, and take off the false rays which the vapours of Humour or Passion raise to [Page 61] obscure and set off the greatest deformities as fair; this sad Representation of the Worlds Miseries.

CHAP. II.

THe Country underneath he saw waste and untilled, oppressed with heavy loads of Guilt and Misery; the Isles of the North tempestuously wafted on the Seas, e'en ready to be swallowed up with a dreadful In­undation of Woes: that little seeming Para­dise also of the Earth which but just before he had chosen out for its delightful lonesomeness, and in his thoughts made the lovely retiring place of religious Melancholy, now converted into an Akeldama of Bloud. Whence casting a look a little way off, he could not but pity the poor Cottagers, the la­bouring Slavery. Peasants that were toyling to fill yonder rich mans Barns, and they themselves like to perish and die for scarcity; nor yet so much enslaved to their Lords, as to their Lusts; at once wretched, and wicked; so much the more to be pitied, as they deserved less. Round a­bout the skirts of the Mount sate a People di­stracted [Page 62] with Jealousies and Fears, preparing Bonds wherewith to bind themselves fast, and pulling down on their heads those evils which they dreaded most, taking care to be misera­ble, by their own means alone enthralled, cru­elly tyrannized over (and that which renders it still most of all insufferable) by men of mean estate, puny upstart Levites. They kissed their very Shackles, embraced even Gibbets and Racks, and mattered not ought the being made a Prey to the griping Avarice of Religious Free-booters.

The whole Earth appears unto him blasted with a Curse, empoysoned with the Devastations. Venom of the Serpent, overgrown with hurtful Weeds, with bad Manners and evil Dispositions. Whithersoever he looked, he saw the Lands foraged and ransacked, defi­led with Bloud, nought but a frightful Land­scap of Desolation and Ruine, a Golgotha of dead mens Sculls. A destroying Pestilence took its range through the Territories of (profest) Christians, which carried all before it; and scarce one cared to avoid the Infection. The Fields were torn and rifled of their Beau­ty, the Air clamorously ringing with Muti­nies and Tumults, the loud roaring of Cannons, the doleful shrieks of departing Ghosts still pierced his ears.

Here were two Princes fighting for a little [Page 63] spot of Ground; and there an am­bitious Monarch devoting no less Ambition. than thirty or forty thousand lives to the sa­tisfying one single Lust. Here a proud Con­queror reeking in Sweat and Wounds, exchan­geth his Laurel for a Wreath of Cypress, de­scends down into the Pit to converse with those he had afore sent thither; and he whose desires but some short while agon could not be con­fined within the borders of a Kingdom, is now sufficed with a few feet to cover a vile putrified Carcass. These were they who could alter Empires, do what they pleased, and turn the World topsie-turvie. But they who erewhile thought themselves unconquerable, now are crushed into the Grave, and thrown aside by their Friends and their Adorers, into the place of Forgetfulness; there to impart their Con­quests with the Worms: they go from the Pa­laces of the Sun and of the Day, of Mirth and Light, into the black dismal Chambers of Death, to inhabit with Toads and Serpents, Stench and Corruption, leave behind all their joys and their good things for them that come after, and turn from the spoils of their Enemies to be preyed on by every as despicable and proud a Worm, or as foul an Insect as themselves. This did he see; and wept for them: he saw havock by such hot-spirited men as these uni­versally made, and waited therefore till he saw their unhappy falls. [Page 64] But these were not a near so formidable Monsters, or so destructive, as the Religions. Makers and the Disturbers, Hell-in­spired Founders and Innovators of Religion. Now he came to have the greatest need of his Telescope to discern these, the Exhalations be­ing so very thick. Through which he could see the broad Road to Perdition thronged by full Caravans of silly men decoy'd in by the over-hot Zeal or officious Cheats of either blind or malicious Guides. Unto his sad consi­deration there appears a third part of the World lamentably deceived by an Impostor, a vile Epileptick person, bewitched to the most ridiculous absurdities that ever Imagination could invent, or the blackest Melancholy give credit to: Another third part, and more, un­der Idolatry, walking in thick darkness and the shadow of Death, the Worshippers of the cruel King of Darkness: And that which of it remains, not of one Religion, but divided into above a thousand different Sects; besides a Va­gabond Nation retaining their antiquated Rites, hated by all because they had most bar­barously murthered their Prince, the great Messiah; and those also who professed to be, and those who lived, as if they were not of any.

Where could he cast his eye? if upon the Country, that alas was vitiated Universal Wic­kedness. with sordidness and narrowness [Page 65] of mind, base and mean Vices: if upon the Ci­ties, they too with fraudulent dealing and de­ceit in Wares, with pride and discontent: the Court with ambition and faithlesness, cogging Parasites and false Friends: the Bench with in­justice and wrong, bribery and subornation: private Families with dissimulation and eye-service, strife, worldliness, and grudgings; ei­ther an Epicure, or a Churl, or an effeminate wanton, the Master thereof: publick Societies with Self-interest and Fraud: the Schools with contention: Houses of Prayer made Dens of Thieves, converted into Stables, and polluted with all manner of profaneness and extempo­rary extravagancies.

These Territories were wasted by foreign In­cursions; the other by distractions at home, and intestine Wars (far more) miserably de­populated: Tyranny lorded it in this place, Confusion in that: And so Desolation and Sin not content with one, took their range thorough every Quarter.

Nor was the Land onely, but the very Sea enriched with the Wrecks and the The Sea. Spoils of wretched Mortals. There was a Ship split against a Rock, another struck on a Quick-sand or a Syrtis, and a third sunk in the very Haven. There might he see the Hull of a rich Carrack broken by the vio­lence of a Tempest; and there a Merchant­man carelesly coasting, whilst the Winds whi­stle [Page 66] sweetly upon its Sails, and the curled Waves seem to sport with the Vessel, over­taken by another which boards it, kills the men; or if so cruelly merciful as to spare them, 'tis perhaps for a more insupportable slavery: either to tug at the Oar, or labour in the Mine. Next moved huge floating I­slands built onely for destruction: for as if the Sea, the Storms, and fury of meeting Winds, Hurricanes, Travadoes, Swallows, Whirlpools, Rocks, Quick-sands, Banks, Washes, Oaz, Leaks, and all Mischances, with Pyrates both Maho­metan and Christian, were not enough, bloudy Battles must be fought even there, lives perish which the guiltless Element consents not unto, and all sorts of death made to combine with mans wickedness, fire it self to rage upon the Waters; for no other end, but that more Bloud may be so shed than the very Ocean can purge away. Yet notwithstanding all this, he could descry whole Fleets Indian Navigation. farther off, contemning such­like dangers as these, and seeking the utmost corners of the Earth, to lade themselves with clods of Hab. c. 2. v. 6. thick Clay, a little yel­lowish and a little whitish Earth, (silver or gold) sun burnt in the bowels of the Eastern Mountains, and dryed up into the hardness of a metallick substance; so much ba­ser than common Mould, as it hath more of Care and more of Vice in it.

He saw that which was but just now a Di­sease in the Shell-fish, made a Pearl in this Ladies Ear: and Stones that spar­kle Pearls. like a Glow-worm, or a piece of rotten Wood, rated at the Mortgage of a whole Man­nor. He saw stately Palaces and rich Villa's built by that great man, Vanity in Building. empty, uninhabited by any; where­of he was not so much Possessor (thought the good Contemplator) as the Rats and Mice were. Another there was who The Covetous. buried his Soul with his Trea­sure, as if he meant to descend alive into Hell: the gripling Usurer and the cold decrepit Hoarder, dug their way down thither apace. But another wiser, he thinks, than his cramp-finger'd and slovenly Father, now gone to receive his doom, The Spendthrift. just come of age, throweth away his Inheri­tance upon Taverns, and the houses of Impiety and Looseness; and by and by is poor and old, forsaken, despised, thrust out from his Company, pitied by none, but forced to beg a crust of Bread at that mans door, and is denied. This Son beds his Fathers Concubine, and that new Mother-in-law playing Lust. with the Babies in her Son's Eyes, teacheth him to sin; who first begins to love her as a Mother, and then to court her as a Mistriss. A lustful Rival stabbed by his Fellow, lay wel­tring [Page 68] in his fresh-spilt gore, but the Murtherer dropped down soon after at his feet. And such was the unlucky end of both those mad men. There might he see a Cloyster'd Frier making his forbidden loves to a Veiled Sister, or else more filthily waited on by his Boy Hylus. In that stately Serail he discerned a Prince lockt up in the arms of his Olympia, who privily stealing away his Heart, flung it into the fire, which so much the rather still doted on her; until at last having long enough played with her Princely Lover, and fooled him out of both his Sense and Empire, she delivers him up bound unto his Enemy. Then lookt he down upon those Draughts of sin, the impure Sheds of the Summenium, Brothel-houses. where he could espy Shione, and Helis, and Lesbia, shamelesly plying the next unhappy Comers, selling their Bodies for a small piece of Coyn, and delighting to entrap the unex­perienc'd freshness of a raw puny sinner. But hence proceeded so noysome a Stench infecting round the Air, enough to stifle any not used to such filthy places, that forced him strait to turn away his glutted eyes from these loath­some and hellish receptacles of Devils, the pe­stilential stinking Jakes of Lust. By which means he had the beastly The Drunken Club. sight of a drunken revelling Match, and the rude Disorders before him of [Page 69] a swearing, healthing, damning Club; which some hours after broke up in Quarrels, Fight­ings, and Murthers.

Some also were touring themselves over a Love-Sonnet, with which they in­tended to present their Mistrisses, Love-Poetry. and presently meet with Death in those Em­braces which they so much courted; rotten­ness and poyson in the Lap of a sweet Enchan­tress. Some vile degenerate Souls plumed themselves over the noble deeds of their fam'd Progenitors. An odde Nobility. kind of Confession, that in themselves they could find no worth: they laid claim to the good actions of their Ancestors, as if they were (like their Estate) theirs by Inheritance. Others would venture all they had, yea, their very Lives, for a little Air, Fame. the breath of the People; which having sucked down, they swell big and burst asunder. Some too were seen to pride themselves in that they were cloathed with the Ex­crements Silks. of a Worm; and thought themselves very fine, and despised all that were not clad so finely as themselves. There one, forsooth, very cunning and shie in whatsoe­ver he did, having sent away a Secret Sins. Friend or a Servant from him, that he might with greater retiredness act those sins he was ashamed of, thought also with bars and doors [Page 70] to shut out the Omnipresence of the All-seeing God: but as he guessed himself most unobser­ved, behind him stood a dreadfully grinning Devil, taking notes thereof in a Book, which he kept to produce against him at the last great Terrible Day.

Then next he observed, by moving the Te­lescope before his eyes a little back to seek out again where he Blindness and Error. had beheld the Scene of Religi­ous Madness, several Companies of unlucky Passengers travelling by, mis-led out of the way, bewilder'd by ignes fatui, by false Lights, and treacherous Leaders: And amongst them he could not but sadly lament the froward and unweildy Zeal of his own Country-men, set on fire by the dishonesty and imposture of their Guides. Some he saw with their blou­dy fingers tearing out their own Eyes, crush­ing the little lightsome Balls into a cruel dis­order, that they might not behold those evils which their fanciful imagination prompted them to fear; so strongly imaginative, as thereby alone to call down those Plagues, which nothing else could ever have done. These were they who, unchristian-like, racked them­selves with future Contingencies; but others again were so stupid, so unperceiving, as not to be moved at the dreadfullest Calamities that befal a sinning Nation. And these not con­cerned [Page 71] at any thing, sate themselves down up­on the next green Turf, to be merry with their Friends; and then folded up their arms in sleep, letting whole days and years pass without taking notice. Some out of their profound prudence, made themselves blind, purposely that they might avoid those Preci­pices they were in danger of; and thought they should see better with anothers Eyes, than with their own they could before; and that the way to shun the Blocks of stumbling which were lain so thick in the Road, was to be uncapable of seeing them: Others did the same, that they might the more securely erre, and through an affected ignorance of their duty, plead not guilty to its omission; just as if a Malefactor should think to save his Neck, in refusing to learn what the Law makes death. But what was yet more sadly amazing to our good Contemplator, others who could see, would nevertheless go along for company with the blind; and though they knew well e­nough whither they were all travelling, yet would not return back again, or leave the Wrong for the Right way. The folly of these was miserable; but more miserable was (if Comparison can express) the folly of those who used the most approved Collyries, the choicest Ocular Medicines, to quicken and bet­ter the sight, to drive the Film from their Eyes: [Page 72] and preserve them against the Dust that was raised by Travellers, read Controversies on all sides, enquired diligently after the Truth, and busied themselves in learning out the true way; and all this for no other end, than that they might decline it, persecute the Truth, de­fend their own side, and see the better to pull out the Eyes of their Friends.

Such absurd unmanlike Vices as these, such Unreasonableness and mean Descents, Bruitish­ness and Folly, did he everywhere observe. Men in every place he saw (and Brutishness of Vice. that more than in Fable) meta­morphosed into Beasts, having di­scarded and changed their very Selves, their own Natures; put off all Humanity and Rea­son; and foolishly degraded themselves (O piteous Sight!) as low, or lower, than the ve­ry state of Brute Animals; the Covetous, of a Mole; and the Lascivious, of a Goat: Here Gryllus grunteth charmed into a Swine, whom the Eloquence and Perswasion of an Ʋlysses is not able to make reassume his old Shape, and be a Man; the Night-walker into an Owl; nay, some transformed into Stocks and Stones; some into ugly loathsome Toads, poysonous Creatures; the Outragious, into mad Dogs; Parasites, into Flies; ingrateful Children, into a brood of Vipers; busie foul-mouth'd Praters, into croaking Frogs: many also that spent their [Page 73] whole lives in weaving the Spiders Web; and not a few Asses, who covered with Lions Skins, would strut and look terrible, and roar to frighten all those that were about them; by which they most ridiculously detected themselves, and were hooted at by those into whom they meant to strike terror; some that could very dexterously mimick it with the Ape; and o­thers that knew how to shed the tears of the Crocodile: dissembling Panthers; subtil Foxes; devouring Wolves; venemous and malicious Serpents; griping and bloud-sucking Harpyes.

Amongst which last was a merciless Extor­tioner, who drank the Widows and the Orphans Tears; whom The miserable Effects. the furies of his own Conscience dragged to Execution: hated he lived, and unlamented he died of all. Nor was it less terrible that followed next. Cares and sleep­less Nights, tormented with continual Lashings a Nusling Hide-bound Miser: boyled in a Cauldron was the angry man by Rage, the cruellest Fury of Hell; and the Ambitious torn upon the Rack of their own restless De­sires. Some had their hands bound behind with silken Cords, and rolled on a Bed of Roses; till at last they were The Deceits. dropt in a Plat of Nettles, and seen no more. Unto a great many, Poyson was reached out in a golden Cup; and this alone being enough to [Page 74] recommend it, it was accepted: Bonds of that Metal were even counted honourable, were willingly and greedily received: and deadly Pills, but gilded o'er, sweetly slipped down the voluptuous Throat. Drinking excellent Wines, they drunk off at the bottom lethiferous dregs; they mistook Ratsbane for Sugar; and in their sweetest Honey, Death, which they ne­ver thought on, was hid. These were the Deceits of the World; which his Eye perhaps, if unarmed, had never been able to discern. For as the Joys of Heaven, by reason of their di­stance, are disregarded, and the Disc of the Sun, because it is far removed, appears to us but very narrow; yet neither they, nor this, are therefore to be counted so small, or so in­considerable, as the Eye shews them: So it would be the same madness, considering the vast disproportion and unlikeness betwixt the appearance of the things of the World and the things themselves, to judge of the latter by the first, without a strict and impartial research of the Mind. Nor is it to be wondered at during our tarriance here, if luminous Bodies, the Lights and the Joys Coelestial, the best, the fairest, and the most glorious Objects are les­sened, whilst even Shadows, the sorrowfullest, the meanest, and the deceitfullest, are lengthen­ed. Wherefore Theosophus thought it not safe to believe things to be as they outwardly ap­peared, [Page 75] before he had looked through that un­deceiving Glass he had; which dispersed all prejudices and vapours, to represent them as they were in themselves. Whereby he could descry all the errors and the fallacies, the paint and false glory, the sad disappointments and real deformities of the deceiving World. He could perceive fond Hopes betray this man, ignorant and uncertain Confidence another, a listless Will and an unruly Appetite a third.

He had taken notice of all these and many more, when the Shadows who had waited this while very thick without, broke in, to play with and delude sense­less Cheats in Reli­gion. Mortals. And foremost of them entered a troop of Pious Frauds, that in a moment scattered themselves all over the World. Ignorance, misguided Zeal, morose Demeanour, Singularity—, under the false Veils of Virtue, came next upon the Stage, and played their antick Tricks; by which they discovered themselves not to be any of her At­tendants; and so went off, shewing their ill­favoured haggard Faces.

But first they let in against Man (just then as he was going to put an end to his Observations) an Army of Fu­ries, The Band of Vices. led by their Chieftan FOLLY, the great Diana of this World, and Mistriss in humane Actions. Who is a Goddess univer­sally [Page 76] worshipped and sacrificed unto, yet not acknowledged by the veriest Idiots. She hid her Face with a Visor, as not willing to be known. Under her Banner passed even Wit, (at least that which bears the name of Wit) and had deserved so well for maintaining a bad Cause, for keeping the Standart against all the Forces and the Powers of Reason, as to be made the Ensigne bearer, and to be followed by Vices of a nobler kind: those who would be counted men of Parts, went and fell down be­fore her Idolship. To whom she gave that to drink which blister'd their Tongues, and made their Brains run round ever after.

In the Van marched those Sins that more immediately strike against, or any way disho­nour the Majesty of Heaven; the prodigiously sottish Wickednesses, and deform'd Superfeta­tions of the shallowest Pates, which aim to af­front him who is Omnipotent; viz. loud Bla­sphemies, blind Atheism, all the Madnesses of a false Worship, all the kinds of wild Enthusi­asm, rash Disputes, groundless Maintenances of received Opinions, Disloyalty in Religion, a restless Impatience under Providence, the strange Dreams of Prophetick Spirits, blear-ey'd Fascination, hellish Magick, accursed Simony—: Fury and Fanaticism on this hand, and a cold indifferency on that: Nor was there ever the less Superstition, notwithstanding so much Pro­faneness: [Page 77] Incredulity and Scepticism on this side, and too much easiness of Belief on the other.

Now looking over S. Paul's Gal. 5. 19, 20, 21. Ca­talogue, he sees these armed Furies in several Companies troop out against their poor silly Enemy, and in the Head of four thereof, those he sought after; 1. Adultery, Fornication, [...]. unnatural Lust, [Sodomy] Softness; uglily spot­ted with little deadly specks, and having on besides but very unclean and filthy Garments, in which they carried the Materials of a strange Fire, and Drugs of Poyson. 2. Idolatry, Witchcraft; both as black as Hell. 3. Ha­tred, Variance, Emulations, Wrath, [...]. Stubbornness, Schisms, Heresies, Envyings, Murthers; with distorted Limbs, and ugly frighting Faces, moving unequally and contrary to each other. 4. Drunkenness, [...] Nocturnae amationes. Revellings (or Serenades;) staggering and dancing in unhand­some measures. The first and the last of these were the merriest; the second were the saddest; the third were the savagest, who were therefore all dawbed over with Bloud. Every of whom (except perhaps the second) was well armed with Opportunities and Temptations. But none of these (nor all the rest) could Treachery against one self. [Page 78] do any hurt, before the Forts of Reason were dismantled or betrayed by Inconsideration, Obstinacy, Disobedience, Procrastination, Tri­fling, Rashness—; and then the unhappy men were presently took, their Souls blinded, and their Eyes plucked out with burning Pincers. Next, Lyes sneakingly came upon them, u­sing the Gen. 27. 22. Voice of Jacob, the Dia­lect of Josh. 9. 6. Gibeonites; but cloathed by Simulation in the Habit of Truth, and varnished over with the deceitful Glosses of Plausibility: Hyperboles ranted on one side of them, Detraction and a mincing Speech on the other side gingerly trod; fol­lowed by Sycophantry and smooth Glavering Words, by Perjuries, Equivocations, Mental Reserves, and by a numberless train of Errors: Then Piques and Prejudices, sinister Suspicions and calumniating Arts; sent to embitter the best Sweets, and misrepresent the fairest Acti­ons. After which hobbled as fast as they could to get the Prey, Virulence, Malignity, and Spight, wounded even before the Battle began.

At one end of the Camp were Querulous­ness and Grudgings, an impatient Inconstan­cy, evil Censures, and snappish Manners, all together in an Uproar. But none were a near so troublesome as were Impertinence and Im­portunity, who buzzed up and down in every corner.

Now in the Army two there were of grea­test Quality and Command; though the one was but a Inducement to Vice. Stale, and the other a Scare-crow. She who was for the Stale, was a Fury of a fair face and a brisk humour, (who usurp'd the name of Pleasure) set off with Paint and gaudy Trap­pings, lovely, and complaisant, and sportive; who allured whole Droves after her, whom she wantonly received and spoke fair to, whilst she crushed them to death in her Embraces, and trampled on them with her Claws. But while she was enticing them, a­nother more ugly Fury, of a Determent from Virtue. nature quite contrary, (who was named Fear) with false Difficulties, and the light uneasinesses thereof, frightned them from their Duty; and was therefore highly honoured by the great Empress of this World, for that she had so scared away Fools from their Happiness, and made it unsafe (or at least so seeming) for any to be now any longer upright or honest.

The Armies covered the Land like Locusts, and with their Multitudes made a Night wherein none of the Lights The Victory. of Heaven, or of Paradise, were seen: the Pomps of the World, the Lusts of the Flesh, the Lusts of the Eye, all standing in stately Array, were prepared for the Battel, but with the [Page 80] bare Ceremony of a Skirmish they won the day, and gathered up the spoils. Hindmost of these wadled fat Sensuality, an hoggish nature and Epicurism, Gluttony and Gormandizing, Intemperance in Meats, Drinks, Sleep, Appa­rel, Recreation,—; accompanied with Sur­feits, Cramps, Gouts, Catarrhs, and a whole Spittle of Maladies. They made their conti­nual Encroachments; held all together to o­verthrow humane kind: Sins there were of all sorts, sizes, and humours, Division of the Conquests. which distributed themselves up and down to destroy and ravage every Quarter. There were Sins of Youth allotted, and others deputed to catch those of riper age; but that now and then youthful pleasure and a shrivell'd face went together, and childish dotage made the old man laughed at. Oppression, Extortion, Sacriledge, and Rapine, went over to the more powerful: False Surmisings, Jealousie, Unfaithfulness, chose to dwell with Friends; Deceit with Tradesmen; and unpunisht Murther in Meats and Drinks, at rich Tables and large Cellars, in the Shops both of Luxury and Medicine: The Viper was bad to lurk within the bed of the Harlot, and the Fox to send his fur to line the Statesmans Gown: The muddy Souls of some were pleased best with filthy and obscene Delights; the shrewd Brains of others best [Page 81] tickled with their Neighbours evils: Sloth and Retchlessness, dreaming Fancies—agreed well with the temper of the Phlegmatick: re­vengeful Sullenness and peevish Anger were as easily entertained by the Cholerick person: but the Sediment of black Choler was claimed by Devils of another size, more ugly and hated than the former; of which they made a Bath therein to wash their cloven feet, and fashion strange uncouth Idaea's of things; wherewith heresie in divers forms knew how to mingle, and so employ her whole skill against the miserable Possessed. These were fierce and cruel; whilst seemingly more pleasant were those, which mi­xed themselves with the bloud of a soft san­guine constitution. Yet even the little God of Love appeared to the im­partial Cupid. view of this sad Spectator, the most terrible and bloud-thirsty Monster amid them all, and of a more sportive cruelty than any of the most mischievous besides; having his Ar­rows dipped in the bloud of his Worshippers, and frolicksomly playing with Torches ligh­ted at the fire of Hell. Dull insipid Vices would creep into an heartless and a brainless Sot; while those of another appearance (though indeed no less at all ridiculous, besides much more dangerous) would be always a­spiring to be in the company of the more in­genious; till they had pillaged and left naked [Page 82] both the one and the other. Not a few sha­red the Barren, and many more the Fertile Soil: Some took up their Quarters in the well, and others in the ill-timber'd Body: Some would lay in those Heads that were soft, and others in those that were hard: Some liked to dwell in a thick, but others liked a thin Scull better: Many set upon the glib Tongue, and a few upon the tyed: There were those that were sent to plunder the Sick, and those the Healthy: There were those that would live upon the Rich, and others upon the Poor; upon the great men, and the small; in much Bloud, or little; in an hot, or cold Constituti­on. Thus was not any secured from their destroying Talons; nor (what is most won­derful) any made Resistance, but let them possess as quietly as they had conquer'd. Now Pride, Sell-conceit, an over-weening Opinion—not contented to take a share, made every body their slave; had learnt even how to insinuate into a Saint, and could easily captivate those who could the least brook a submission. With whom pert Impudence came flurting in, unin­vited. But Negligence lay sprawling on the ground, bedirtied and bemired; not striving (like the rest) after any Prey, but pitied there­fore and entertained by stupid unactive Souls, who were soon undone by the foul ungrateful Traytor, and robb'd of all they enjoy'd. af­ter [Page 83] which Craft came wrigling in, with demure Hypocrisie and armed Injury that passed for Justice; three such revenous Furies as did de­vour as much as all the bellies of the rest, and to get more booty, plunder'd their very Army. The Mutinous and the Quarrelsome, the Vain and the Fickle, the Buffoon, the Apish, and the Licentious, the Adulterer and Incestu­ous, the Blasphemer and the Apostate, the Par­ricide and the Assassin, the Felon and the Im­postor, the Ungrateful and the Perfidious, the Inhumane, the Uncharitable, and the Simoni­ack, the open Rebel and the close Conspira­tor; were all coaks'd into the World's strongest Net, and had the mark of the Beast burnt up­pon their foreheads more than ordinarily visi­ble. Thus being sealed by their beloved Con­querors, after a little while of sport and play, they were pinched and griped, and their brains knocked out one against another, and then sent for a Present to the other World. For they would allow some of them time to frolick in, before they shew'd them the Axes and the Halters: knew how (after the Persian mode) to dress up a Mock-Prince to be played with, and with such formalities barbarously to sport at those whom they had sentenced tardy. These Tyrants forced some to rejoyce, as they forced others to mourn; but those that re­joyced came at last to mourn most: they [Page 84] killed these with singing and roaring; they destroyed others with fretting and pulling: they lowred upon some, but smiled upon o­thers, as they were sticking them into the heart: they feared some Consciences hard, but burned others sore and tender; those were not afraid to act any thing unlawful, while these on the other side were afraid to act what was lawful. Thus they hamper'd both the Insen­sible and the Uneasie. Some of their Cap­tives foamed at mouth, as if they were all in a ferment; others sparkled, as if they were on fire; and others looked black and ghastly as any Carrion. Indignation, Disdain, Despite, Scorn, Envy, Revenge, Outrage, Repinings, with a number of such-like Affections, disfi­gured the faces of a great many: this mans heart was canker'd with inward Rancor; the others fester'd sorely with Carking and vain Solicitude: they pricked some to death with Needles, (these were they whose uncontented­ness would not suffer them to rest quiet) and run others through with red-hot Irons (these were they whose Flesh was corrupted, and whose Marrow was burnt up within their bones.) Thus the Furies divided the Spoils a­mong themselves, laid waste the Lands, and treacherously killed the poor Captives, to whom they had promised Quarter. Whilst Desire (and that too always followed by Loathings) [Page 85] made them greedily swallow down the poyson­ed Baits.

Nay, both the Extremes hugged themselves together against Man. In the Gentile Sinner, the fine sparkish Opposites made Friends. Gallant, he observed a beseem­ing Foppery and Court-Flattery: but in the Clown, Rudenesses and Incivilities, Roughness and a rugged ill-natur'd Untractableness. One was Fool-hardy; another Fool-wary. He was too Rigorous, but the other over-Easie; and both thereby alike hurtful unto Virtue. So much Knavery could not rid the Multitude of Folly, nor Cowardise of Temerity. The De­ceiving and the Deceived, the Blockish and the Crafty, the Fantastical and the Morose, lived near together, and were beholding to each o­ther for what they were. The Knave led the Fool by the Nose, till he himself was at last caught in the Gin, and by tearing himself flut­tered to get out, but could not. There were both the Despairing and the Desperate, who presented themselves to his view: the former desponded of every thing, the latter of no­thing; and past Despair, durst set upon Impos­sibilities; whereas those through Fear durst not set upon the greatest Possibilities. Affectation dressed up more than a few to be laughed at, and Indecence as many to be trodden on. Ab­jectness and Highmindedness, Impudence of [Page 86] Brow and a Sheepish Unmanliness, Arrogance and Baseness, a crabbed Sourness and soft ho­neyed Soothing, bound up as many Slaves as one another, and triumphed over the weakness of those they had conquered. Treachery combined with over-much Officiousness, and mean Condescentions went along with them to support Tyranny; Diffidence & foolish Presum­ption hand in hand; much Talk and peevish Silence, looser Laughter and a Weeping-fit, mutually succeeding each other. Thus even Contrarieties conspired against a weak Race, were reconciled to do Man an Injury. But though some were so modest as but to scatter up and down among the least number of Ve­taries; he could see light and unsettled Spirits, Selfishness, littleness of Mind, a love of the World, Imposture and Blindness in every place; with Machivellian Policy, the Devices and Slights of cunning Cheats sent to impose upon the World, Massacres, Plots, Factions, Rebellions—. Dire Presages were seen to fill the Heavens, and an hundred thousand Plagues and upwards to hover over head, ready to fall. REMORSE and TROUBLE of MIND brought up the Rear.

Thus all the Vices and the Passions were banded together against frail Man: thus they divided and ruled their Conquests. And in such sort did all the World (except a few de­spised [Page 87] Pilgrims) seem unto him enslaved by this Sorceress FOLLY, and their hearts ty­rannically possest by foolish hopeless Vices. Whereinto these * Devils were no sooner entered, but the Herd (pro­perly Luke 8. 33. enough so called) ran violently down a steep place into the Lake, and were choked.

And so which way soever the sorrowful Contemplator lookt, he saw a thousand thou­sand Follies, ridiculous Phrensies, Miscarriages, heavy and numberless Calamities, infinite E­vils. A slight view whereof had heretofore, when he was young, such an effect upon his mind, was so dreadfully amazing, as struck in him a resolution presently to quit the World, and seek new Countries out, where Death and Sin had got no footing, and where Innocence might rest secure from either Violence or Fraud.

Wearied with so dismal. a Prospect, he put up his Glass, unwilling to view any longer, and descended to the bottom of the Hill, which was washed by the River Thamus. Whose sadly discoloured streams had not yet lost the stain of a miserable Slaughter that was some­where thereabout committed. As if they even blushed at mans Cruelty, were ashamed of that Barbarity which he gloried in; and think­ing it a very praise-worthy Enterprize, sought perhaps to have eterniz'd in Pillars of Stone, [Page 88] or everlasting Records. The dejected Father feeling the burthen of his Grief unsupportable, sate himself down under the fair spreading shade of a tall Pine. Sorrow had sunk his eyes into his head, and made his eye-lids come to­gether, and his heart-strings were almost rea­dy to burst; when casting in his black melan­choly thoughts what he had seen, he thus ut­tered himself.

CHAP. III.

GOod God! and is it possible that ever any one can be in love with such a mass of Evils, such an heap of Misery and Sin? What, I pray, can a delirious brain fancy herein so lovely? Is it a great Name, or a great Estate; blustering Va­nities, or useless Superfluities? Is it a Body plai­ster'd with Paint, or a rotten Carcass gilded o'er with exterior Braveries? Perhaps it may be any, or all of these: for nothing did I ever see, but that a fool could admire, and a wise man de­spise. [Page 89] I see it is just so: no Victory is now held so honourable as to overcome ones Reason, and baffle Conscience; nor Conquest so deserving as everlastingly to overthrow one self. See, how far the Triumphs of that bewitching Siren (sinful Folly) are extended! See, how they are all led in Chains by this their foolish Goddess, and sub­mit their necks to be trodden on by the sweet De­stroyer! For of a truth it is mankind is mad, stark raving mad. They court Misery, run upon the jaws of Hell; so sottishly vicious, as to mi­stake all that is good for evil, and find no Pleasure but in their own Wretchedness. O prodigious and unheard-of Folly! Are Anger, Revenge, Envy, Love, Discontent so delightful Passions, such pleasing Perturbations of the Mind? As well may we go and fancy the burnings of a Fever, or St. Anthony's Fire, as any of these: nay, as soon shall I be brought to think a Leper beautiful, as a Woman deformed with Lust. Prithee tell me therefore, foolish Worldling, what dost thou a­dore, and how thou cam'st to be thus enamour'd with the World. O miserable and unsatisfying World! whom the whole is not able to content, even the least dust is enough to trouble and discom­pose; a small Atome or Mote in thy eye, every trivial Mischance, and every uneasie Accident, death of thy Friends, the miscarriages of thy Child or of thy Servant, are of more force to af­flict thee, than all the rest of it to ease thee. And [Page 90] is it for this goodly Vanity, that so many Wars are commenced, Conspiracies hatched, civil Broils fomented and carried on by ambitious Spirits? Is this the Prize of so many noble Actions?—Let the vainglorious Victor now boast his strength, and leave engraven in brass the Monuments of his fortunate Cruelty. If to kill be so great honour, why should not the Wolf, the Lion, and the Bear, challenge it as well as Man? Is it because they fight with less courage, or with less force? If so, go, proud Murtherer, and if thou canst, grapple with one of these, and then acquaint me which is the weakest: thou that art so strong, dost thou not fear the Trunk of the Elephant, and the Tusks of the wild Boar? Believest thou not that Diseases, Dearths, and Plagues can dispatch quite as many as thou? Yet who praiseth the Pestilence for depopulating whole Towns, or worshippeth the Fire for being more terrible, and burning down the Houses of some and Palaces of others; or hath learnt yet to flatter the Surfeit for snatch­ing away so many young men in the spring of their flourishing years? With these therefore now go, and share thy ill gotten Praises: unto these, that much better deserve it than thou, communi­cate thy Fame: let these, I say, partake of thy Triumphs, and together with these erect the Tro­phies of thy redoubted Valour. O monstrous In­humanity of Men, thus to destroy one another; and what is more, even glory in that destroying! [Page 91] But wherefore call I them so? Are these men? it cannot be: them I always took to be another sort of Animals, more divine, more rational Crea­tures. Who can tell me where to find a Man, one that has not put off himself, nor lost the image of his Creator?

How can my eyes behold this; the blasted Earth made the Habitation of Devils, Cities the retreat of the Elk and the Lion, the Beasts of the Forest and impure and raging Spirits? What do I see every where, but a Wilderness of wild Beasts? but that alas, now I think on it, Tygers and Pards are less cruel, do never prey upon their own kinds. Is it then a Map of Hell, or is it Hell it self? but even there the very De­vils divide not against themselves—How are the Northern Isles laid waste, the European Coasts stain'd o'er with humane bloud? What is it that makes the wretched Natives strive thus to out-vy the years past and the years to come, both in their Crimes and Punishment? Must all the Wickednesses and Calamities of all Ages be amassed together in this one? Therefore mine Psal. 119. v. 136, 139. Lam. 3. v. 48, 49, 50. eyes, O God, gush out with water: they gush out with water, because men keep not thy Law; continually cast forth Rivers of water for the approaching destruction of this People: yea, my Zeal has even consumed me, because mine enemies have forgotten thy Words. Without [Page 92] any intermission mine eye trickleth down, and ceaseth not; till the Lord look from Heaven. Behold, Lord, look down upon and pity: pity, most gracious Jesu, the madnesses of those silly wretches, those who by their evil Guides are in­fatuated to so high a degree as to embrace, under a shew of Sanctity, the deadliest sins, and em­brew their hands in bloud, that so they may ap­pear the meek followers of thee, the Prince of Peace. Wilt thou let Schism and Heresie, with all their vile monstrous brood, thus rigorously per­secute (O horrid Barbarity!) thy most holy, thy most lovely Spouse the Church? Wilt thou not support her under the Cross thou hast laden her with? Crosses and Martyrdoms are nothing to this Persecution. She now feels within her own bowels more than a thousand Diocletians: the most exquisite tortures and enraged cruelties of Superstition, and Hypocrisie, and Profaneness. Behold, Lord, and pity: behold the Giants of the Earth, the mighty men, how they labour to o'er­turn all things, to shake the very foundations of the Earth, and shatter this same goodly frame of the Ʋniverse into Confusion, Discord, and Chaos: into that which is many degrees worse than its primitive Nothingness. Behold even how Heaven it self is (again) assaulted by their enormous Villanies, their huge Gigantick Crimes! Crimes that are always attended on by Famine, Plague, War, and all the meagre train of Deaths, [Page 93] which we poor silly Mortals both court and dread. So that Virtue is now by many thought to be but an imaginary Being, a pious Dream, a vain phan­tastical Chimera of some dull Brain, the dotage of a morose stupid Ascetick; and made the Worlds Fucus to the foulest Vices: Fury and Madness. Sedition and Murther, usurp the milde and sacred names of Zeal and Godliness. In this lamenta­ble decay of Piety, where shall one find a good man, or an honest Pilgrim?—

He would have proceeded, but that some Herdsmen driving their Beasts by that way to the Market, here disturbed him. The Beasts were very plump, and skittishly played as they passed by; not knowing whither they were driven. Alas (said he to himself) how unconcernedly do these poor Cattle now go to be slaughtered? They who drive them have onely fatted them for this, that they may now sell them to the Butchers, and their Deaths bear a greater rate. Thus fares it with the Pilgrims of these unhappy times, who after that they suffer them­selves to be transform'd into Beasts, and to be fatted and stall'd with irrational beastly plea­sures, are by themselves, or their interested Guides, soon sold over to destruction and the slaughter.

After these passed by others also of the Country thereabout, that had labour'd very hard all that day; in whose looks one might [Page 94] read an honest and rough Simplicity. Whom the good man therefore thought he could ea­sily enough perswade to seek their own Wel­fare; and to go along with him, leaving the toilsome and barren Earth unto the more fruit­ful Plains of Paradise. And to this end he u­sed the most sweet and most prevailing means, discoursed very plainly with the poor Drud­ges, dealt with all the openness and sincerity possible concerning their removal and the way thither, and left nothing unattempted to make them happy. But all in vain; he met with so fierce (so much the more fierce as the more unexpected) opposition from these besotted Clowns. Instead of Simplicity he meets with Bluntness, and a resolute ill-grounded Refusal: so far are they from being perswaded by the plainness and the truth of his Discourse, or at all better'd by his sober Admonitions, that some of them revile, and others jeer, and every one despiseth him.

Though the most noble-minded Theosophus knew not how to sorrow for himself, yet could he not chuse but deeply sorrow for these ensla­ved Wretches. But as he was still disappoin­ted, so his disappointment still made him the more strive to obtain, and the more long to be in Paradise. On which place (having by this time marshalled, in his sorrowful thoughts, all the deplorable Vanities of the World that [Page 95] he had seen) he brake forth in this manner following.

But as for thee, O divine place, how glorious art thou! how great and transcendent is thy Beauty! and how desirable is the Vision of thee before all others! Nothing but thee do I desire; I think of nothing but thee; my very Enemies can witness how incessantly I praise thee, O supream Beatitude: the Brooks and Winds (that use to repeat my words) can tell as much. Paradise, how do I pant and thirst after thy Felicity! Pa­radise is inscribed upon my heart in indelible cha­racters, and every minute carries the blessed name of Paradise along with it. All the day long my thoughts are of thee, and at night my roving phant'sie cannot rest from seeking thee out. In a Land where no man seeketh thee, but every one is gone astray after their own inventions, my Soul continually gasps after thee: yea, in a bar­ren and a thirsty Land where no Waters are, and where the People have hewen out to themselves broken Cisterus: forsaken the Wells of the Pro­phets, because they flow from thy sacred Head. What study or cost have I spared to learn where­abouts thou art seated? What have I not under­went to make a Discovery into thy Coelestial Map? Have I not for this exposed my self to the fury of raging Winds and the tempestuous Main, been toss'd up and down by the Storms of Popular Zeal, robb'd by Pyrates, engulf'd up in Misery, [Page 96] and oftentimes even sunk to the bottom with Re­proach and Calumny? Have I not in thy en­quiry searched all places, endured both the chill cold and scorching heat of different Climes in Religion? And what else shall I do to win thee, thou fair Object of my Affection? Thou knowest how laborious, how diligent I have always been to fill thee with Inhabitants; when not onely my Adversaries, but my very Friends also (those at least who profess themselves my Friends) would by their too quarrelsome Piety or open Profane­ness, turn thee into Solitude and a dispeopled Wilderness. O that I could pull down Mercy and Peace from thy holy place! Why dost thou not manifest thy self unto us, and put an end to all our Controversies?—O when will come those happy days?—Will they ever come?—Yes, did but exil'd Charity return, they would then be ve­ry near: then shall our Divisions be healed, and thy Paths (by consequence) crouded. In the mean while how unhappy are we in the Quest after thee, whom the very eagerness and heat of Pur­suit still makes us to lose?—And shall we all thus perish? No sure, it cannot be. It cannot be that any Soul should perish in the search after thee. It cannot be, no more than I can cease to love thee; no more than I can cease to pant af­ter thy Joys. And can I ever do this; can I ever forget thee? No. Impossible it is for me not to extol thee among the Children of men. [Page 97] How desirous am I to tell thy Lovers where thou may'st be found, and how ready to conduct humble Souls into thy blissful and immortal state! How do I long for thee, thou sure Reversion of never-fading Pleasures! Paradise the meed and recompence of my Travels, Paradise the sole aim of all my hopes, how fain would I leave these Ha­bitations of Clay, to dwell in thine eternal and delightful Mansions! What would I not give to enjoy the liberty of thy Citizens, O Jerusalem, Jerusalem!—Why art thou then thus concea­led from mine eyes, or what makes me to be de­bar'd the fruition of my Lord? Why do not ye who are his winged Messengers, translate me thi­ther? For I am weared with toil and labour, I am quite tired with vexation, and can hardly any longer (but for his sake whom I love) en­dure to be thus flouted at by these Country-Swains for teaching them the most necessary and the most profitable Truth in the World: and to be persecuted even by those who in shew appear his most devout and zealous Pilgrims. But alas, that—: that which dams up my heart with grief, is, that all this while, this tedious while, I have not so much as gained over a Prose­lyte, not so much as a Proselyte to follow his steps. My Endeavours, alas, alas, have all been fruitless and come to nought: all along have I been disserviceable unto thee, dear JESƲS—In vain do I strive to honour thee, in vain do I [Page 98] strive to advance thy Kingdom upon Earth: the Feuds and Rents in thy Church do quite dishear­ten me. Is not Truth, preached out of my mouth, term'd Heresie; and Primitive Christia­nity, without any further scrutiny, strait explo­ded? Whensoever I speak, my Neighbours look awry, and every one stops his ear against me. Wo is me, that I am constrained to dwell with Mesech, and to have my habitation among the Tents of Kedar. My Soul hath long dwelt a­mong those that are Enemies unto Peace. I la­bour for Peace; but when I speak unto them there­of, they make ready to battel. Who will there­fore give me the wings of a Dove, that I may flie and rest my self upon the Mount of God! When must I leave this Beth Chomer! this Cottage of Clay! this ruinous and shaken house! O that I had wings like a Dove; for then would I flee away and be at rest. O when shall I arrive there! How long will it be, O my Soul, before I enter the Court of Heaven!

CHAP. IV.

IN such sort did the dejected Eremit pour forth his Soul upon the Banks of the River Thamus (whose becrimson'd streams well e­nough accorded with his Wo, and whose waves seemed to listen to his words, and then rejoyce to report them to each other in sorrowfully-pain­ful Eccho's,) till by the rowling murmurs of the Current, and the heaviness and sorrows of his wearied Spirits, he was easily compelled to take the respite of a little sleep.

But his Imagination suffered him not to rest: for no sooner had he let his Senses go, but he thought he saw a rich and stately Tem­ple raised suddenly by the hands of Angels; the Materials and Stones whereof were taken out of the Coelestial Quarries, and the Sun glittering against the Walls, rendered it above measure resplendent: which frightened away an ugly Pore-blind Hag that had hid her self under the Ground-work, not able to abide so dazling a Lustre. For she loved to converse with Bats and Screech-Owls, her Eyes being too weak to endure the Light, or even without [Page 100] violence the least gleam thereof; so hateful un­to her, that to obscure the same, out of her mouth she continually belched forth foggie Exhalations, and muffled her head round with gross palpable Darkness; by which he knew her to be IGNORANCE: the mistaken Mo­ther of mistaken Devotion. He was for some while delighted, he said, to view the glory and magnificence of this divine Structure, and to behold the chase of that blind deceiving Witch.

But at last he saw the Clouds begin to ga­ther themselves together very thick, and the Sun strait to hide his head, and Ignorance again return. When he observed a great many ma­king Battery against it. But others there were he perceived undermining the Foundation: and withal some hellish Spirits not far off, who yelled hideously at his beauteous Decency, rai­sing a Storm which beat against it, shaking the stones so, that the Ʋnderminers more easily o­verthrew it; and nothing presently was left but the Ruines of this (once) goodly Fabrick. Than which, nothing could move the melan­choly Dreamer more. But the Air at length clearing up, and the Fogs dispelled by the bright Rays of Truth (the Sun) this same Temple (that but lately fell) again appears to him in greater beauty and splendour; up­on whose Portal he read, The CHAPPEL of [Page 101] the Pilgrims to the HOLY LAND. During the while, there touched his ear a sad pleasing harmony of elegiack and mournful Notes in a most soft melodious Air. All which was clo­sed in a sudden turn with quick and joyful Hal­lelujahs. And as he lookt to know whence it came, not yet recover'd of his pensive sadness, he saw a winged Youth, as quick as Lightning, pierce the Sky, who smilingly approaching him, touched him with his wings; and shewing him a Mitre richly set with curious stones, in­visibly held up, having this Inscription, To him that leadeth; thus, with a countenance darting forth beams of joy, spake, viz. Why art thou, Son of Man, thus heavy and cast down, as if thy God had forsaken thee? I have hitherto (though unseen) still attended on and guarded thy person; but am now specially commanded from him who is thus solicitous for you, to raise up your drooping Spirits, and to assure you that your la­bours are accepted with him, and that after many disappointments, hazards, and perils of life it self, you shall find a select number ready to bear you company unto those yonder happy Re­gions of Immortality, where I, my dear Charge, expect at last to see you.

Having said this, his Guardian Genius (who had ordered all these Shadows, and presented them to his Imagination) disappear'd, leaving in his veins for a long while after, such a secret [Page 102] joy, as made all his bloud leap; and such a calmness in his Soul, as made him quite forget his past discomforts.

However, he was somewhat startled after this, at the sight of a dead Corpse before his feet, beginning to move and stand upright.

This broke the Chains of Sleep, setting his senses and thoughts at liberty to reflect upon what he had seen. All which (except the motion of the dead Corpse) when he consi­der'd the sweet comfortable words of his Tu­telar Angel, admitted of an easie interpretation. The subversion of the Church, and re-edifying thereof, the Mines under the Foundation, the yelling of Devils, the Tempest, the return of Ignorance, the glorious Mitre, and the dolorous Musick, concluded with divine and sprightly Hallelujahs, were all obvious to make out. Onely this appearance of the Carcass seemed to forebode some sudden Evil, which he would fain have understood.

CHAP. V.

NOw upon the shore, not far from him, lay a small Casket, thrown up, as it were, by the flowings in of the Tyde. On which, as he took it into his hands to view it more narrowly, (guessing it to be the Prize of some poor slaughter'd man) he found the Holy Lamb curiously nich'd, with this word, Who overcometh; and underneath that, the Seal of the dearest Consort of his troubles, Eubulus. O my Eubulus, have I then lost thee? What cru­el hand has thus bereaved me of my Friend? Was it this the Corpse portended? Well, be it so, yet grieve I will not. Thy Journeys end thou hast but so much sooner attained; and with a shorter cut, than otherwise thou could'st, hast reach'd the Holy Land. Happy Martyr, I envy thee not:—yet I cannot, methinks, but sorrow somewhat for my self who am left behind.—Stay,—let me open this Casket: herein perhaps I shall find his last words directed to his Friend.

Thus said he to himself, and then breaking it open, the first thing treasur'd there he met [Page 104] with, was a fair rich Manuscript of the two Covenants in their Original Languages, with an antient Liturgical Form of Prayer annext thereunto. Next, in a long Scrole was con­tained the Constitutions and the Articles of the Primitive Pilgrims. There was also an Emerald-Ring believed to be of efficacy to pre­serve Chastity, having the whole History of the Crucifixion most admirably etched on it. Wrapt up it was in a small shred of Paper, bearing this Inscription, The Gift of the excel­lent Youth Theophilus. But at the bottom he found a Letter, the purport whereof was as follows: viz.

Scarce had he read this Letter from his Friend, when he could distinguish these pitiful Complaints, in a voice which he thought he was not unacquainted with, coming from an adjoyning Tree: O my dear Timotheus, my dear Friend, my Timotheus, alas, my Timotheus, alas, where art thou? where, alas, shall I find thee, my dear Companion? Art thou quite lost? O would it had pleased God to take thee away whilst thou wert his: Then had I not lost thee; but now I have lost thee. Happy had it been for thee, dear Timotheus, if thou hadst died long ago. Yea, nothing could have been happier for thee than this: I should not thus have grie­ved for thee, though I had thereby lost so excel­lent a Friend. Art thou yet alive, my Timo­theus, or no? Why didst thou thus leave thy Friend without so much as acquainting him first therewith? Where art thou now stragling? Hast thou forgot all those Discourses we had about Pa­radise, and how we used to delight our selves in contemplation of its Beauties? Dost thou not re­member how thou and I were wont to send up our extatick Souls into that happy, most happy place; [Page 106] there to meet, with our Supplications and our Praises, the good, the gracious, the almighty, the almerciful Prince thereof? Sure thou canst not but remember how graciously he always heard and answered our Petitions: thou canst not but remember his favours that he delighted to shower down upon us. How oft hast thou told me thou couldst never disremember these, or put Paradise out of thy mind? O my good God, my kind and merciful Father, ever glorious Prince of the best Abodes, hear me this once, and grant, I beseech thee, that I may find my lost Friend and thy lost Child. O that these my Sighs could so prevail on thee, that thou wouldest send back my Friend to me, and at the same time bring him back to thy self! O that thou wouldest enter­tain him as the returning Prodigal! O that thou wouldest receive him again into the number of thy Servants and thy Pilgrims! This I beg of thee, for the sake of the Son of thy Love, and that pre­cious Atonement which his Bloud makes. O my dearest God, unlimited in thy Perfections and thy Goodness, holy, ever-blessed, adorable TRI-ƲNE Majesty, who art the great Pitier of perishing Souls, and hast sworn that thou delightest not in the death of a sinner; suffer not that poor sinner to perish: though he is thy Enemy, he is sedu­ced: O recal him instantly, and undeceive him; reconcile him to thy self, and be thou reconciled [Page 107] to him: [...],—Nazianz. Orat. sec. de Pace. Thou who wilt be known unto all ei­ther by Illumination or Condemnation, work now powerfully upon his heart, and of a profane Enemy, make him thy devout Adorer. This I hope thou wilt grant, though thou shouldest be therefore pleased to lessen my part in thee, and allot me but half a share in thy Paradise. O how contented would I be with this!

Theosophus thought he would not so soon have ended, but that one, as he supposed, here came to him; to whom he could hear him say, O Parthenius, I have been very melancholy since you left me. But tell me, did you hear any body speak of him? Did you ever see, tell me true, among the Pilgrims, one so lovely as was Ti­motheus? Pray, Theophilus (answered the other) do not fear but that you will find your Friend. Do you say so, dear Parthenius (re­plied he) indeed I just now thought I had heard some body tinkle in my ears, Timotheus is retur­ning. But must I not fear, dost thou say? Sure if he were not utterly lost, if any where he were to be found, I had found him before this. Are not two years and half of a third that I had sought him, a long while? Come (said Parthenius unto him, in quite as sorrowful a note, though he [Page 108] strove to comfort) what, will you, who while Timotheus was among us, was always observed to be the merriest and pleasantest of us, now vex and pine away your self, so that in a short while you will not be able to stir after him? Pray now do not trouble your self so excessively, but depend upon God, and expect his Will. I should be as glad if I could win Philogynus to put on chast Pilgrims Weeds, as you could if you should meet rambling Timotheus. But you know that neither can be effected but by our great and gracious Master, and through his assistance; unto whom our Prayers must pierce, if we think to do any good. For a Si Stephanus non oras­set, Ecclesia Paulum non habuisset. Aug. St. Paul, are we not be­holding to the Prayers of the holy Martyr St. Stephen? And with our Prayers sent upwards with the same fervency, we must look to gain over those two. Good Theophilus, do not weep so; put this out of your mind for some while: Do you not hear the News? What do you think will become of us all? We are all to prepare for suffering: for our Basilius his Army received yesterday a very sad defeat from the sacrilegious and wicked Theomachus. The wise Ortho­doxus, the Angel-tongu'd Uranius, and the good­counselling Eubulus, are all taken from us: we are never like to see that venerable Guide the suffering Patriarch Cyprianus more: and our Theosophus the best and chief among us, Theo­sophus [Page 109] the best Man and best Guide, is sought after by them. Do you not see those stains upon the Waters, and the devastation round us? What can we now further do for Basilius, or Basilius do for us? At this, cryed Theophilus, God preserve Basilius, but let him do what he please with us.

Now at the name of Basilius, Theosophus his heart beat very much; yet he was unwilling to interrupt them, and thought it better to wait a little longer to see how they would break up their Discourse. What (said Theophilus) is this your News? I tell you, dear Cousen, I can be angry with you almost for this: nay, try me whether I cannot be angry. Am I not angry now? I never knew you, dear Parthenius, a Relator of such sad things. Is it true? But why did I ask whether that is true that Parthenius tells me? Pray be not angry with me for it. I think I spoke out of anger, pray pardon me. Truly, though I never wished so before in my life, I could now wish, my dear Parthenius, that you speak not truth. Come, let us rise, and go seek, you, Philo­gynus: I, Timotheus: and when we shall have found them, we will hold them fast; and to take the Pilgrims VOW, will bring them to the good Theosophus. But now I speak of Theosophus, let me see, where is that little Box I had to deli­ver unto him, which I took up yonder? would I could but find him now to give it him. Theoso­phus, [Page 110] who heard distinctly enough what they said, was somewhat surpriz'd at this, and more when Theophilus looking after the Box, spake thus to Parthenius: I remember I laid it there, you saw me, did not you? how can it then be mo­ved away? for I have seen no body walking here. Sure I have not lost it: I would not have it lost for ever so much. The Effigie of the holy Lamb makes me think there is somewhat in it worthy to be prized. Did not you, Parthenius, take it up? tell me if you have. But Parthenius assured him he had not; and Theophilus knew not how to dis-believe Parthenius, though he could not see any other probability, but that Parthenius had taken it up and laid it somewhere else.

Theosophus, now to put an end to this, went towards the Tree under which they sate, near unto the place he had taken up those sacred Treasures. They both rose up to reverence him; but Theophilus thereat startled, looking about him as if he had lost something and could not find it, very ingenuously confessed, Sir, I was to search out you, and give you a Box, which I saw one afar off (whom I supposed to have been either Orthodoxus or Eubulus) throw in­to the River. I made haste to take it up, which when I had taken up and looked upon, I knew whose it was, and esteemed it as much as if I had saved a little Moses (and perhaps I did) in his Ark, floating on the waters. I designed therefore [Page 111] to bring it you, my good Father: there, there it was I laid it down, thinking no body to be here; but now I see it is gone. Pray have you met any one with such a little Box, walking this way, that I may enquire after, and if it be possible regain, the same? At this, said the old Father, do not trouble your self, sweet Theophilus, for he whom you designed to have it, has it already; and therein contained not onely Moses, but a greater than Moses; so far were you from being deceived. But tell me if you have yet seen your Friend? These last words made him as sad as the other made him joyful. I think, answered he, weep­ing very sadly, I saw him once, but so alter'd and chang'd, as I scarce knew him; and then he would not come near me, but ran away, and ne­ver since can I hear of him: this is now the thir­tieth month in which I have not spake unto him. I have at last got Parthenius to travel along with me; and he also is seeking for one that is lost.

The charitably-minded Theosophus gave di­rections to both, how they should bring them back, if they lighted at any time into their company: and told them, that perhaps they might find them either blind or deaf, but that under the cover of friendship they might apply that which, with the divine blessing, would cure both their Eyes and Ears. So he parted from them, holding up his hands, and saying, [Page 112] God bless you, brave Youths, and give you your desired success.

When they were gone he read over again Eubulus his Letter, it being so unexpected and so surprizing to him, and thought upon it with much concern for his three Friends, but little for himself. Scarce had he read it, when he heard a tumultuous noise, which as it ap­proched still nearer, he distinguished to be, Where is this heretical Dog? did we not see him here? And instantly he was surrounded by the rude Country-folk (that he had Chap. 3. lately left) arm'd with Fails, Forks, and other rustick Weapons that came next to hand. Amongst whom he saw a young man not like the rest, of more ingenuous looks, which he thought to have some resemblance of Theophilus, and more of the old loyal Hegemon whom he loved. But as they were laying their barbarous clutches upon his aged body, as if they meant to tear and shake him limb­meal apieces; there fell a very great Storm of Hail and Rain that dispersed them all, and forced them (against their wills) to leave him unto his escape. Whereupon his Devo­tion broke out into Songs of deliverance, and his pious Soul confessed that so unexpected an Evasion, and so miraculous, could not but be the effect of his all-powerful Preserver.

But the devout Father had never long time [Page 113] to rejoyce: he was soon after set upon again by some others of a contrary Faction and course of Life, Tories bravely mounted, (with whom was Santomero in disguise) who in a drolling manner thus accosted him: Prithee, old Grandsire, canst tell us any news of our friend Theosophus? Sirs (replied he) you cannot easily miss of him. So spurring their Horses, they left him whom they most sought after, and rode in quest of him whom they had alrea­dy found.

Again another time, on a dark Moonless night, as he was repaired to a melancholy and secret Wood for his Devotions, he lighted, be­fore he was aware, upon a private Junto of men, who all rising up to him, surprized him with this Complement: O Father Mariana, are you come? Our Associates Pedro and Loyola bad us at your arrival expect to receive the De­terminations of our supreme Mufty, and gave us strict charge to follow your Advice. These words started him not a little, you may be sure; and had he not been opportunely be­friended by the night, his looks would without doubt have manifested the Error. But finding that he was took for a quite different person, he thought it the safest course not to disclose who really he was. Assuming therefore cou­rage from the disguise of a false Mariana, he past confidently by, and with a seeming great [Page 114] haste, thus abruptly bespoke them: Stay me not now with your discourse, for my business is ur­gent upon me, and will not admit of any the least delay. To which they all as quick replied, Whither hie you so fast? Is it to assassinate the Tyrant Basilius? Well, after your work is finish­ed, pray fail not to meet us at Bethaven, where we long to hear you relate the Transactions of St. Peter's Court. Nor will we our selves be lacking to entertain you with a satisfactory account of the strange success our Stratagems have hitherto had against that religious heretical Sot Theosophus and his Adherents. So farewel: Let Hell pro­sper your designes. The most pious and peace­able Theosophus not much regarding their An­swer, or wicked Plottings, made haste away; glad to be so easily rid of his deceived Adver­saries, and with but small intent to meet them at the appointed place. Although the name and practices of Mariana were notoriously e­nough infamous, yet this honest Eremite be­fore now could never be induced to believe him an Accomplice of them, who in publick strove to appear his most inveterate and jar­ring Enemies. So horrid a confederacy and fa­miliarity betwixt two such seeming opposite Parties, was too strong for his Faith, and made him now almost mistrust his Senses. Having got free from them, he spent the whole night in Prayers for Basilius, and that (once flourish­ing) [Page 115] Church which their hellish Complottings had subverted.

He was afterwards encountered by several other Companies. And though he came not off always free from violence, yet still found deliverance; a sure, if not an easie one. Which Encounters, for that they were many, and the remembrance of them might perhaps prove troublesome to a few good men, are wholly omitted.

Thus being pursued by all Parties, and of­tentimes hardly escaping with life, he wander­ed many a weary step through over-grown Woods and dark solitary Recesses, absconding himself in Caves and Grotto's, till at last he settled in a poor Hut, that for secresie and the nearness of a certain Oratory, commended it self before all others. It was indeed not much indebted to Art, but rarely well accommoda­ted with all natural Conveniencies for a recluse life; and being immur'd in by the green and prickly closure of a kind Thicket, was almost render'd secure from the violence of wild Beasts, and the quest of humane Malice; as if it had been purposely designed at first by the careful industry of Providence, a Sanctuary in future times to some persecuted religious An­chorite. Here that blessed man, the divine Theosophus, rested to expect the event of the Vision, by making this retreat from the World [Page 116] preparatory and effectual thereunto; chiefly, I think, encouraged to track the foot-steps of In­nocence in such a rural solitude as this, and to chalk out a safe way to the heavenly Canaan.

CHAP. VI.

ANd accordingly a while before the Cele­bration of Easter, he used to search the wild unfrequented places thereabouts, and beat the Hedges and by-ways, to find out and set aright any solitary wandring Pilgrim. How successful his Charity proved, you may judge by the event. One day above the rest, wal­king out, he was overtaken by a very thick Fog descending from the hills, that benighten'd all the Vallies round; whereby every thing, at a short distance; was undiscernable to the eye. The Sun, as if he knew how to comme­morate the Eclipse of the Sun of Righteousness, mantled over his light in black cloudy Exhala­tions: such was the darkness (though not u­niversal) that it might not unfitly represent that mid-day-night wherein all the powers of Infernal Darkness were scatter'd and confoun­ded. [Page 117] Which made him revolve in his con­templative mind all the dire and tragick parts of his Masters most astonishing Passion; whom the Evangelical Records relate to have offer'd up his Soul a bloudy Victim (about this time) for the Sins of the whole World. Thereupon his thoughts crowding too fast upon each o­ther, were forced at length to burst out into some such Expressions as these, viz.

My Lord and Saviour, how great and intole­rable were the pains which thou didst endure! How sharp and pungent was thy grief! Who, a­las, can express thy Sorrows, or comprehend the riches and excellency of thy Goodness! What else but infinite Love could make thee, holy Prince, be­fore whom all knees bow both in Heaven & Earth, put off thy Coelestial Diadem and Glory, to court Infamy, Servitude and Misery; to be scourged re­viled, and spit on; to be forsaken even of thy Father, and together with Thieves and Robbers nail'd upon the accursed Tree? For whose sake, dear JESƲ, didst thou submit to this? Could it be for the meanest of thy Vassals, for a depraved mortal Race, thy disloyal rebellious Subjects, and vile Creatures? Yes, LORD, thou knowest 'twas for them alone.—And is thy Death of no more efficacy to them? Do thy precious Wounds avail thus little? Has thy Bloud lost its virtue, or thy Love its power? If not, how canst thou behold them perish for whom thou hast [Page 118] done so much to effect the contrary? Canst thou let the World, after all this, be lost? or canst thou so far forget thy Name, as not to be merci­ful? Look down and see how the Destroyer of Mankind seems proudly to triumph in thy defeat! Why wilt thou any longer suffer him to usurp Dominion and Rule over that which is thine? Thou, LORD, art faithful, and remembrest the Chap. 4. Promise made to thy Servant. In vain didst thou die, if—

Here Tears gusht out so fast, as to block up all further passage for words, and leave him no power to speak the rest, except in sighs and tacit grief. He had not kept silence very long before he heard a small stir, which at first he little minded, thinking it to be the rushing of a Deer in the Thickets, till hearing a lamenta­ble groan, he judged it to be of one in a worse case than himself, and therefore sought him out that he might help him. He was directed by the frequent reiteration of such mournful notes to a certain Bush hard by, where he could discern a comly Youth that had been bar­barously tortur'd, and now ready to expire his breath, stript of all his Clothes, and rifled of every thing but his native Beauty and Endow­ments. He, taking pity on the poor young man and his hopeful features, threw his Gown over him; and the Air clearing up, he made a shift to bear him home in his weak arms. But in the way he fell into a dead Swoon.

CHAP. VII.

AT this the charitable Father, almost struck like him, believing that his Spirit then had quite vanished, and that now nothing in him of life was any longer remaining; fell down with him to the ground. Such a de­sperate lifeless stupor had indeed benumm'd the poor wretches Soul, that although the touch and pressure of a Prophet has proved vital and salutary to more than one, and the embraces and the expansion of a man of God reviving to many a dead Sinner, yet could this produce no effect upon the appearing Corpse.

Whereupon, after the Father had a little re­covered himself, and was able, he went to pre­pare a Grave. When as he was going, the re­membrance of his Vision, Promises of his God, and late apparition of an enliven'd Carcass, soon called him back, and bad him not distrust the Veracity of him that could not lye.

Being therefore come home into the hole of his devout Hermitage, and having laid down his sad burthen, and wept over it; he made a [Page 120] gentle Fire (for it is near an impossibility to do any good in this case, if the Fires of Zeal be either extinct or over-vehement) to expel the cold and noxious Vapours. To it he brought the senseless body, in which he knew the Soul was buried; and left not off applying such Re­vocatives as he had always at hand, till he felt warmth therein, next breath: And at last came a deep sigh, (a glad note you will say however of life) which was followed by this short moan, O Eubulus, Eubulus!—But here he stopt, not able to go further. This so filled the spirits of Theosophus with joy, that (as his custom was) he could not forbear running out into Hymns of Praise and thankful Ac­knowledgments. Besides, it pleased him much to hear Eubulus named above any other; as either longing perhaps to hear some news of his long-absent Friend, or else not knowing the true cause, willing to attribute it to a su­pernatural Impulse; and even reckon the very calling and seeking after that reverend Physi­cian of Souls, some kind of presage of Recove­ry. Now marking the lines of his face, he re­collected how that amongst the tumultuous Rusticks in their late Assault, he had observed his forward fury, and had often listened to the Character given him by this same worthy person, whom returning to himself, he pre­sently called for. All which made him not [Page 121] desist his labour, until with continual chafing and rubbing, he brought him wholly to him­self again.

But he observes his Patient, in whose pale languid face but just afore there shone the re­mains of such feminine sweetness and winning prettiness, to be now covered over with Bot­ches and Plague-sores, with the crust of a Le­prosie, and the ruptures of Violence, scorched up with burning Fevers, and the Calenture of an intemperate Diet: tortur'd with sharp Do­lours, with grievous twingings of Conscience; so that he looked upon him as the most defor­med and the most loathsome Monster in the whole Universe, the most miserable Wretch, vile unhappy Caitive, that ever his eyes be­held. Yet even this increased (not lessened) his care and hopes. For the breaking out and the knowledge of the Disease, he took to be the first and most necessary step towards its Cure, and the surest prognostick of mending.

It would have daunted I believe the most daring Sinner, have stopt him in his full car­riere, but to have beheld here the foulness of Vice unmaskt; whose ghastly affrighting looks de­prived of all their adventitious beauty and false glozing pleasures, needed no Eloquence to paint them worse. Whilst his Breast (O all ye who read these Papers) was ransacked by this Ghostly Father, there appeared such strange [Page 122] forms of Evils, and so numerous, making it the place of their beastly Revels and licentious Scuffles, as must needs certainly have struck ter­ror and awful confusion (if not repentance) into the careless worldly-minded man: yea, made the boldest and atheistical Champion of Hell quake with cold shiverings. The Doemoniack (so I think I may call him) was possest by no less than a whole Legion of Infernal Elves; who were discern'd then in thick swarms crawling about his wicked heart, that most foul Recepta­cle of all manner of Impurity, scarified with Li­bertinism, and even burnt into ashes with Lust and Youthful Desires.

His Gall had likewise overflown all the rest of his better parts, and fill'd his Spirit with bitterness. His vital heat was in danger of be­ing extinguished by those black putrid humours which rotted his entrails, and made them swell into such a vast hydropick bigness. The fecu­lent setling of the Wine and strong Liquors so greedily guzzled down and merrily quaffed off, sent up continually unwholsome steams to an­noy the rational faculties. They were here always darkned with thick pestilential fumes ascending from those slimy Caverns, his Bow­els. Thus his Reason was disturb'd, and Life endanger'd.

Near his Liver lay a Bag of rank greenish Poyson that discharged it self through all the [Page 123] veins, and instead of bloud (the common Substitute of Life) circulated round this body of Sin. So that every Member was corrupted, all the powers of his Soul sick and weakened, lamed or dead, common Sense exil'd, and his o­ther Senses made the Caterers for Vice: his Ears tinkled after obscene and goatish Narra­tives; his Eyes (like two baleful Torches set on fire with Hell) still cast forth nought but impure and lustful Flames; his Palate was vi­tiated with Asian Luxury; his Hand with Lar­ceny and Fraud; his Head and Brains were giddy; his Limbs seiz'd with Rottonness; and his Tongue whet with Adders venome.

Good God, how was the Father surprized to behold this Monster of Iniquity, and Sink of all Uncleanness! How was he appal'd with horrour at the dissection of this so guilty and leprous a Soul, polluted and stain'd with so many defilements, depraved with such un­heard-of Turpitude, and slurred after such a gross manner with the foulest and deadliest Impieties! But how glad was he to discover and scent those wilde bestial Lusts kennel'd in their proper Dens and lurking Holes! Thus the prudent and holy Confessor, by prying in­to the source and the causes of the Malady, he (like a wise Physician of the Body) learnt to drive it out the better by a due application of medicinal and effectual means.

And how also did the Wretch himself look! Now the scales fell from his Eyes, & Vice appea­red to him in its ugly terrifying Aspect: All the sweets and the pleasures of his former lewd a­ctions vanished, and nothing but the Sting was left behind: Now nothing seem'd to be more ridiculously odious than an Habit of Sinning: Now did those precious Hours which he had saunter'd away in wanton Dalliance, return to accuse him: His divine and noble Soul up­braided his Sloath and Negligence; and the beauty of Virtue was so ravishing in his eyes, as to make him esteem himself the blindest fool in nature, who had never yet courted her, or not courted her for her self: Now was he heartily sorry that ever he had offended the supream Majesty of Heaven, and would not in barter for the whole World, consent to act over afresh those sins which might provoke him to anger.

He now confest Drunkenness to be a poy­soned Potion, Sensuality and Intemperance to be but Swinish Delights and the very baits of Perdition, Prodigality to be a toyish idle Freak, and Arrogance a swelling Tumor of the Mind, Profaneness a bold extravagant Phrensie, and all his past course of life Madness and Folly.

Esteeming these no ordinary Marks of fu­ture Health, the good Physician was still eager in continuing his help. He admonished his [Page 125] Patient to purge his Soul of that nastiness and filth in which she was bemir'd; to exorcise those Imps of Hell that were (he saw) in­dustriously effecting his ruine, by sincere and holy Grief; and to cleanse his Ulcers with pe­nitental Tears, those waters which are far bet­ter than 2 King. 5. 12. Abana or Pharphar to wash in, and wholsomer than the Pool of Joh. 5. 2. Bethesda when touch'd by an Angel.

At this a violent passion seiz'd his heart, and made his eyes gush out into flouds of Tears. Which prepared him to utter with devout af­fection and humility this pious antient Solilo­quy, viz. Put me not to rebuke, O Lord—: There is no health in my flesh—, neither is there any rest in my bones, by reason of my sin—: My wounds stink and are corrupt through my foolish­ness—: My loins are fill'd with a sore disease, and there is no soundness in my flesh. I am fee­ble and sore broken—: I roar therefore for the very disquietness of my heart: my heart panteth, my strength faileth me, and the light of my eyes is gone from me.—And I truly am set in the plague,—Psal. 28.

In this moanful Ditty (which was still now and then interrupted with grievous fighs and throbs) he went on lamenting the foulness of his Disease, and solliciting with great earnest­ness the comfortable succour and healing Touch [Page 126] of his merciful Redeemer: that Touch which was alone able to cure the Lunacy of a distem­per'd brain, the complicated ills of an obstru­cted Spirit, and regenerate his Mind anew by unlodging those hellish Furies that nested within his breast. Having used this and some other select forms, he concluded all in the most ex­cellent Comprizal of devout sorrow, Have mercy upon me—Psal. 51. to the end.

After he had lain a good while in this hum­ble and penitent posture, his looks began to be chearful, his paleness to be ting'd with a lit­tle red, his deformities grew less, and his sores dryed up into scurf. Theosophus, who by these glad signes was ascertained that his inward parts were now thorowly rinced and gargled by those purgative Doses he had afore given him, thinks time to anoint his Sores with a certain generous Balsam. Some call it Balm of Gilead, others the Panarion of the Gospel, but all know it to be the Bloud of Christ, and that nothing else can cure a broken wounded Soul; nor even that, if the Wounds be not first made clean (for else how can it operate?) by the drops of a preparatory Contrition. He bad his Patient rely upon the Mercies of God, and the saving Name of JESUS; and having discoursed to him about an hour, of the nature and the effects of Repentance, (which will be too long to insert here) concluding with some [Page 127] observations on Spiritual Joy, told him that by the vertue of this heavenly Balsam (if he hindred not its working) he trusted before the following day should go down, to see him per­fectly cured. Adding, that if on the morrow the nauseousness of his Stomach, all impure Qualms, that is, all remanent affections to sin, had left him; he might then, after a due and holy preparation, feed on the miraculous and medicinal Bread of Life.

CHAP. VIII.

THe next day therefore being the great Christian Festival of Easter, the young man arose betimes to welcome the Morning-Sun of Righteousness, that now began to dawn upon his Soul, and to dart in thither his beams of Life. He fancied himself new risen from the death of Sin, freed from the corruption of the Grave, and the eternal prisons of the ne­thermost Pit. Of the Miracle of this day he had so great an Instance upon himself, that ever after he used to commemorate it as the Festi­val both of his Lords and (by the vertue there­of) of his own Resurrection.

He was not long up, before the careful Theo­sophus came to give him his customary Visit; who perceiving in his smiling countenance the calmness and the serenity of his mind, and from the evenness of his pulse (the modera­tion and sedateness of his passions) guessing at the regular reparation of his Health; cannot now any longer forbear to congratulate this his so miraculous a Recovery. You see, my dear Youth (says he, stretching out his hands to Heaven in an holy amazedness) the power of that Soveraign Balsam! you know who made it; and who has been at the expence of a Miracle for your sake, and that also no ordinary one, even the God of Nature: he has, you see, condescen­ded to form you anew, and reinstate you in Grace, by giving you another (and a much better) life. Be thankful therefore, good Son, and pay your Vows this day at his Altar: run forth, I advise you, and meet now the King of Glory, the Prince of Salem, the Emperor of the Holy Land. If you do this, he will pardon all your Misdeeds, will cure all your Diseases, and will enter you into the Bedrol of his Pilgrims. Now he is pre­paring to feast you at his Table, he expects to find you there, that he may number you among his Saints and Followers, the redeemed ones of Israel. Methinks I see you, dear Friend (my Patient I will call you no longer) prepared to entertain him within your heart, and am glad to see that you [Page 129] need not my invitation. Wherefore I shall re­serve what I had to say to you, for them that lack it more. So he left him unto his private Me­ditations and Prayers.

When not long after, having invested himself in an holy (but penitential) dress, he was led by his reverend Guide to a very fair and beautiful Temple not far off, in the midst of a gloomy religious Wood, commodiously enough seated for the devout retirement of the perse­cuted Followers of JESUS. It was eleva­ted upon a small rising, decently built, and for the convenience thereof a long while resorted unto by Pilgrims of all Ranks and Conditions. But since the Roads to Jerusalem began to be unfrequented, this also was scarce ever visited, unless now and then by a few old decrepit Beggars.

Hither they came, and having entred this holy place, they fell down prostrate upon their faces, worshipping towards the East. They had not lain long upon the cold Pavement, breathing out their Souls after JESUS, and the Delights which are at his right hand, before their ears were touched with the Sighs and soft Ejaculations of some religious Devotes. When casting their eyes off the ground, they among the rest spied their dear Eubulus. Ve­ry glad you cannot but guess they were; and very glad was Eubulus, to find the Youth [Page 130] whom he loved so affectionately, and had so long sought after, in such a place, with such a Friend; and to receive them both in safety, whom he heard the wild Foragers of the Voi­sinage thereabouts had torn and devoured. Nor was their Joy any whit allayed through the reverence of the place, which hindred them from so much as speaking to each other; but rather increased by their mutual assistance and servency of Devotion, with all the increa­ses that a religious Joy is capable of.

The first Solemnities were done, and the Morning-Sacrifice offered up, when Theosophus made so powerful and divine an Exhortation, highly valuable for its Eloquence, Solidity, and Piety, to usher in the Feast; that nothing but the length could tempt me to omit. One passage however I cannot forget; for having excellently discoursed upon the Author and Dignity of that heavenly Treat, he tells those few who were present, That it was not meant to pamper their Lusts, or make them proud or lazy in the way: but to be their Viaticum and spiritual Repast in their Journey to Hea­ven; whence the Israelites leaving the Brick­kils and slavery of Egypt, to pass through the Wilderness unto the Land flowing with Milk and Honey, received it in the posture of tra­velling, with their Loyns girt, Sandals on their feet, and a Palmers Staff in their hands, Exod. c. 12. v. 12.

After which, with what humble deport­ment and veneration did they approach the holy Altar! With what ravishments of joy did they come to this Coelestial Banquet! With what a steddy and firm resolution did they purpose to follow their prime Leader JESUS, through all Difficulties and Hazards, unto the happy Land of Promise!

But as soon as the blessed JESUS, the glorious and peaceable Prince of Jerusalem, descended with Myriads of Angels attending on him, how did their hearts burn within them! with what transcendency of Love, and vehe­mency of Desire, did they address him! But here I am struck dumb with reverence and a­mazement, unable to describe this sacred My­stery; which the Angels do with awful admi­ration delight to look into.

CHAP. IX.

NEver was its effect more visible upon a­ny, than upon this young happy Con­vert. Through the mysterious efficacy here­of, he was wonderfully chang'd into another man. It drove away his tyrannick Lusts and pleasant Torturers, making them lose their hold: made his curst Executioners flee frigh­tened from him; his vain Desires, with every cruel Vice and Murtherer of his Soul, disap­pear. His Senses were released, his Brain dis­enchanted, all his filthy and hellish Inmates ex­orcised, not so much as one left behind, but all driven out, by the Priests sacred Charm, The Body of our Lord Jesus Christ—: those sweet, those all-powerful words! Thus set at liber­ty, he became free to give himself unto him who had freed him. And thus washed and cleansed in the bloud of the holy Lamb, he presented his Body to be from thenceforth a pure and hallowed Temple, and his Soul a chast devoted Sanctuary, unto the divine Spirit, the Spirit of Purity and Holiness.

Fresh and holy thoughts began forthwith to [Page 133] bud and bloom within his mind; all his Mem­bers grew again like unto a little Infants: a clean purified heart was formed in lieu of the other; and (that which divine Mythologists name) the old man rotted quite away, through Gods anticreative power. So that the Quere of that Jewish Rabbi, How can a man that is old be born again? Joh. 3. would here have been evinced by plain unanswerable matter of fact. Chap. 7. Those tortures of Conscience which he had endured, were unto him the Pangs and Throws of this Second Birth. Whence his veins are now all filled with new Sap and vital Juice; every part of him is re­generate; his breast agitated by Psal. 51. v 10, 12. The whole Man. a free, a right Spirit; and that life which brought him hither, converted into perfect strength, the most healthful and sprightly vigor. There appears such beauty in his face, such lively Angelical force in his actions, that even his Guide (though conscious of the change) di­scards his memory, and mistakes him for a Ci­tizen dropt down from the Coelestial Jerusa­lem.

It will not be an unpardonable Digression in this place, I hope, to acquaint you with what I have been told by the Pilgrims of those days, concerning this blessed Alteration in the young returning sinner. For though the [Page 134] Graces and the Ornaments of sincere Peni­tence, and the splendors of a Soul illuminated from Heaven, are not discerned by the carnal eye; they could not be hid from them. I am not able to tell you with how much pleasure these loving Pilgrims now looked upon him; but I know that they were wont to relate how his Visage, which was somewhile a­go The Face. disfigured with Jocundness and Sadness; with apish Grimaces and phantastick Merriments; with Revenge, and Love, and Anger, Fears and Jealousies; with Immo­desty and Impudence; with contemptuous Mows, an unhandsome Laughter, and a proud Meen or Cast; at all times either pale and wan with Envy, or black with Fury, or wrin­kled with Repinnings, or scorched with Choler; came to be adorned with the comely blushes of Modesty, with a graceful Bashfulness, devout untainted Mirth and holy Joy; with a strict Severity and Sadness; with the Image of God, the Image of Humility and Love, of Piety, Meekness, and Candour.

Do not his Eyes, (said they one to another) those lewd treacherous Sentinels, that have so often betrayed him to The Eyes. Olympia's imperious beauty, and with their la­scivious Gazings and previous Adulteries been Accessories to all the foolish Defilements of his body; look more prettily drenched in Tears, [Page 135] or lifted up in Contemplation toward the Re­gions of Beauty and Holiness?

They rejoyced extreamly (for at the con­version of a Sinner there is joy not onely in Heaven, Luke 15. 7. but The Ears. upon Earth, by all good men and good women that know it, Psal. 119. 74.) that his Ears which were so deaf, should now be open to God's Word; that they should be sealed up so so fast against all impure and wanton Talk, a­gainst all the temptations of alluring Sirens, against Ribaldry and Profaneness, uncharitable and offensive Language, biting Raillery, the witty Reproaches of the Age, and all the vain and all the sinful Excursions of a lawless Member.

As also that his Tongue (that little foolish part) formerly disordered with so many wild Extravagancies, with The Tongue. Blasphemies and Obscoenity, Perjuries and De­famations; with the whispers of Calumny, of Peevishness and Discontent, with a trifling and scoffing Wit, with smooth Flattery and a vaun­ting Humour; so as to lash out into all the excesses of Impiety or Folly; should now be worm'd of that currish madness, and compos'd anew to diviner strains, Hymns of Love and Praise.

They could not but admire (O blest Admiration!) to see his Hands The Hands. [Page 136] that were not long before fill'd with Violence, now lifted up in Prayer, and reach'd forth in Charity: And to see his Feet, which were once so swift to shed Bloud, The Feet. now to tread in the ways of Peace and Meek­ness. They could not but admire to see such polluted Hands and Feet washed at the Altar, and the Leprosie that covered them, wiped off. But all this they ceased to admire, as soon as they consider'd the Goodness and the Power of his Redeemer, and remember'd most of them the like Change not long before experimented upon themselves.

He hath indeed other Desires and other Pas­sions, other Hopes and o­ther Resolutions, than a­fore The Change universal. he had: his Labours, his Studies, his very Divertisements; all his Words, and Endea­vours, and Performances, have no Agreeable­ness with what they were; are more satisfacto­ry than ever, more eligible and more delight­ful. For his Curst and Wolfish nature is chan­ged into the Simplicity and Meekness of the Lamb; and the Malice of Serpents that was in him, is expell'd by the Innocence of the Dove. Vastly different are his Sentiments, a great deal calmer and wiser; his judgment and opi­nion of things (for the most part) quite con­trary to what they had been: Those toyish Pleasures which he so eagerly pursued and hun­ted [Page 137] after, with as great abhorrency he nause­ates and loaths: His Palate relishes nothing but divine and holy Nutriment, nothing of an Earthly (much less of an Hellish) Gusto, of a Fire and Brimstone-hogo. Even the coarsest Au­sterities of Religion afford him more satisfaction and pleasure, than the very Softnesses and De­licacies of Caelia's bewitching Beauty. All her Fucusses and Charms prove too weak to pre­vail against him; for that his mind is fixed up­on nobler Objects, his Soul disengaged from the World and from the Flesh, and all his Senses freed at length from the Vassallage of Vice. If any man begins to wonder at so strange Events, at so total and miraculous a Transmu­tation, and has not, so it be real, any dislike against it; he is in a fair way, if he persist, willing, to effect the same upon himself: O­therwise, if he thinks it was not worthy of the Joy and Admiration that it caused in the cha­ritable Devotes, who were Contemporaries, and blames them therefore; he must be ei­ther very ill-natur'd, or very insensible; and, I fear, in a worse state than he apprehends. It pleases me much that their Charity was as signall as his Conversion; no wonder if this heavenly Penitent become strait the love and the delight of the little Tribe.

If one could suppose a deformed Cripple with prominent and distorted Limbs, his Sinews con­tracted, [Page 138] his Joynts dislocated, his Skin spotted, his Flesh running with Sores, and every way mis-shapen; to shift all these for an handsome and a sound Body, to shake off his Infirmities, and put on a personable and lovely Meen: if further yet, one could suppose a Brute to be­come rational, and discourse; or a natural I­diot to be made wise; or a foul Toad to leave his poyson and his skin, and grow up into a beautiful Man; such was this Change, that was effected by the gentle Hovering of Gods Spirit upon his Soul: It was no less, but grea­ter far and nobler: if any Comparison can be made betwixt a Coelestial Substance and an Earthly one.

Thus his stony and obdurate heart, which the Thunders of the Law could not shiver, is now softned with the Bloud of the Passover: He who but a little while afore matter'd not the Threats and Terrors of Mount Sinai, is now touched and moved with the sweet Gospel-Messages of Love and Peace. Whence ever after he related great things of this Evange­lical Feast; how it was the Seal of his Pardon, the Christian Pasport of his Heavenly Pilgri­mage, and the beginning of his Ʋnion with God: And how it gave him all things, even by removing him from them, and making him desire nothing but JESUS, and to be with him in PARADISE.

CHAP. X.

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

CHAP. XI.

JUst then as they were speaking, they thought they heard a clacking at the outer wicket of the Lodge: And as soon as it was o­pened, who should they find waiting there, but this very same Eubulus; whom their joy pre­sently introduced? Which joy was so great, that a good while was spent in profound ga­zing on each other, in mutual Embraces, and in all the Arts of silent endearments; afore they knew how to express it in words, or wel­come (any otherwise) their long-expected Stranger.

The first who broke silence was the young Penitent: Pray tell me (said he) my dea­rest Monitor, how you came this day to leave us; tell me, good Eubulus, why we parted so abrupty at the Temple. I was e'en afraid you had forgot me. You see, my dear Son (said Eubulus) that for your sake I am returned again so soon: nor could I in truth be any longer absent from you, al­though I knew you here to be safe enough; yea, as well as my heart could wish you. [Page 163] My rejoycing was almost unutterable, to find you to day in so holy a place and posture as I did: and much more to find you (poin­ting at Theosophus) with this Reverend men. But pardon me if I could not tarry then to speak unto you, through fear of such Irregu­larities as might perchance have happened, had I left the care of those poor Pilgrims I conducted thither. Whence I carried them strait to a Shepherds Cottage hard by, who is called Ʋranius, more innocently pleasant than those of whom Arcadia boasts; and unto him have committed them, until you also be fitted for the Journey, so as to bear them company.

The Youth could not here forbear from embracing him again, and telling him how much he longed to be on this Journey to the Holy Land. And as the two aged Fathers were discoursing about their great Concerns, he could think of nothing but his Journey, and the miraculousness of his recovery from the Grave. All within him was transport of Joy and Gladness, and in the very midst of his Di­scourse he would say unto himself, Rejoyce therefore, O my Soul, and praise thy Lord, who has at last brought thee back unto himself. Re­joyce with me, ye glorious Spirits who attend his Throne, being always ready to congratulate the recovery of a dying Soul; and all ye who have [Page 164] left the World and put on Palmers Weeds, that there is one more added to your number. I have received the Calice of Salvation, and will there­fore be glad: My Soul shall always praise the Lord. And then he would start, and speak a­gain to his Friends, and then speak inwardly to himself, But what made thee to be so kind to me, holy Jesu? What have I ever done to merit thus thy favour? Couldest thou see any thing worthy of thee, in a leprous Soul spotted with those in­numerable Stains and Defilements? Thus was he fixed upon Heaven, and thus conversed with the place of his Desire: whereas none can conceive the pleasure of his thoughts, but those good Souls who have at any time felt the like, and are not altogether unacquainted with Coe­lestial Ravishments. Then presently he took Eubulus, and with all the expressions of Grati­tude imaginable, related unto him aside, what great things the good and wise Theosophus had done for his Soul, the several passages of his Sickness, and the whole course of its Cure. He now divided his Joy with his Grief, so as not one should lessen the other, and so as you could not guess which was the greatest; while he told him of the many Diseases of his Sin-sick Soul, and the Infernal Troops that had haun­ted him, and cohabited with him, and how mi­raculously he was rescued from their Tyranny; aggravating the foulness of his Crimes, and the [Page 165] baseness of his Apostacy, and extolling as high as he was able the Goodness of his Redeemer. This was very glad News, you may be sure, to his Eubulus; who would have been content to hear him a longer while recount those pret­ty sad Occurrences and joyful Changes.

When Theosophus, the Sun being about set­ting, called them to sit down to a frugal Sup­per. Now because it was a day so solemn, in which, besides, the divine Goodness brought all these things to pass; a Feast to them of such great Rejoycing both for what it remem­ber'd, and for what had happen'd in it; one part of Theosophus his Vision hereby being happily fulfill'd, and they so surprizingly met: Before they sate down, they judged it fit there­fore to send up their Praises (with the Choir of all Creatures) to the supreme Majesty of Heaven and Earth. For they (good Souls) who thought themselves bound at all times, and for all things, to pay Him tributary Thanks, could not at this time, and for so many things, forbear from turning their Congratula­tions of each other, into Adorations of Him. Doth not (said one of them) every Crea­ture which is in Heaven, and on the Earth, and under the Earth, and such as are in the Sea, and all that are in them, bow down and worship our Creator? And can we alone of all his Creatures be silent? Then they [Page 166] bowed all three, and said, Glory be to God on high! Blessing, honour, glory, and power, be unto him that sitteth upon the Throne, and unto the Lamb for ever. Blessed be the Lord our God from everlasting to everlasting. With Seraphins, Cherubins, Thrones, Virtues, Powers, Domina­tions, Principalities, Archangels, Angels, the holy Animals surrounding the Throne of the Great King, the four and twenty Elders, all the migh­ty Princes and glorious Lovers in that happy Court, all the heavenly Hosts, with these and all the Pilgrims arrived there, Patriarchs, Prophets, Apostles, Evangelists, Martyrs, Confessors, Vir­gins, Widows, holy Doctors, and all holy and humble Men and Women; we praise thee, we bless thee, we worship thee, we give thanks un­to thee, and shall ever love, O God, to celebrate thy Glories.—For this let no profane Person blame their Piety.

After they were seated at the Table, and the Supper was blessed, Theosophus said to Eu­bulus, You satisfied me; but now how much Calodulus stirr'd himself to get off the impri­sonment from you, and both my other Friends and dear Assistants! but I long to hear how you have succeeded in your Labours. The Youth told him also, He was impatient to know what had befallen him, since he was ta­ken from him by those ill men; and where he came to light on those Pilgrims whom he [Page 167] spake of. Eubulus promised to tell them in order what they desired, and thus began.

Most Reverend Father Theosophus, after that you had sent me out, together with my worthy Fellow-labourers in Christ, Ortho­doxus and Ʋranius, to visit the Roads and Highways, with charge that we should bring to you all the Sick and the Lame we could find, to be healed and made whole; and that we should give Directions to, and set aright as many as straggle out of their way, and proffer them safe conduct to the Holy Land; and had therefore disposed us for several parts, that we might bring the more in unto you, and gather a company of Pilgrims not incon­siderable for their number: We all, after a­bout a years Travels, met together, according to our promise, in the delightful Vally of E­dena, to give each other an account of our success; but without any intent of returning back to you as yet. We had sad Stories e­nough to tell one to another; and here we passed some weeks, employing them as well as we could. I should be of a very hard na­ture, if I could without Tears relate unto you how ill we succeeded. For though we said never so much, we could not perswade the Sick that they were so; and those who halted thought themselves to run in the Paths of Righteousness: they that were poor, esteemed [Page 168] themselves most rich; and they that were miserable, most happy: If any one was so mis­led as to lose himself, he yet verily believed that all the World beside was lost, and he a­lone in the Way which would bring him to Paradise. Nay, some thought they should possess the Canaan of the Blessed, without so much as going through the Red Sea, or pas­sing over Jordan; without being baptized in­to the Death of Christ, or purified in the Ri­ver of Life that parts our eternal Happiness. As many as were able ran from us, and those that were not able, made a shift to crawl away, and kick at us. My Advice was disgustful and harsh: Orthodoxus's Reason not at all a­greeable to their Errours: and even the Plea­santness and divine Eloquence of our Ʋranius liked not. We all suffered very much, onely I think if there were any difference of our Suf­ferings, Orthodoxus had the hardest measure. Having now past these Storms and Brunts of the World, here I told you we thought to rest.

But the HOLY WAR growing still more fierce, we could not expect to lie long hid in our beloved Retirement. The Soul­diers who were sent to ravage that part of the Country, quickly found us out, and made us their Prisoners. As we were tumultuously carried thence, (Good God!) how many [Page 169] dismal sights had we before us, and round a­bout us! I am sure it was not over-pleasant to our eyes to see such Harras and Havock made every-where; to see the Earth laden with dead Bodies, and the Waters mixed and defiled with Bloud. The Devils themselves might glut their Envy, with seeing what we saw. In truth, nothing ever frighted us more.

My Friends, I have often (said Theosophus) lamented by my self the Folly of these Pil­grims now-a-days, who maintain this Holy War; a War which is not, alas, to win (as of old it was) the Holy Land, or gain the Jerusalem of the Lord; but even about the Way thither. Than which, my Eubulus, can any thing be more ridiculous, more unhap­pily ridiculous? It would be a very strange madness, methinks, in any one, to denounce open Hostility against all such as do not go with him in the same Road.

Yet so it was (said Eubulus) by these Pilgrim-Souldiers who professed to fight un­der his Banner who is Lord of all the mighty Hosts; we were seized in that place, onely for not going the way as they did: In that we thought it safest to be conducted by Moses and Aaron, the Secular and Ecclesiastick Pow­ers; (quietly following them thorough this World, this Wilderness of Sorrow and mishaps, [Page 170] into the Land of gread Plenty and Gods faith­ful Promises, which is on the other side:) and refused to joyn with any gainsaying Co­rah or rebellious Dathan, against the Priestly or the Kingly Office; so to be swallowed up into Hell with the Transgressors. I thank my God heartily for whatever I sustained at their hands, and shall quite pass it over. On­ly the loss of a small Casket which just before we were taken I threw unwillingly into the River, doth now somewhat trouble me: for looking back, I think I saw a young man take it up.

With that Theosophus delivers to him the little Box, which had caused such a Commotion in him, when on the shore of Thamus his me­lancholy stream, he lay a while agone so low dejected. This, as he designed it should, sur­prized Eubulus very strangely. Who with great signs of wonder taking it into his hands, and kissing it, desired to know by what Pro­vidence he came by it. In answer whereunto Theosophus gave him the Story, in as few words as he could, of what had passed since their de­parture, and of his meeting with the two Youths Parthenius and Theophilus.

So rising from Supper, satisfied with the good things that Providence had prepared, and refresht with such pious and profitable Re­lations; they ended it with this Paschal Hymn, [Page 171] Christ our Passover is sacrificed for us, therefore let us keep the Feast,—1 Cor. c. 5. v. 7, &c. These three Friends, while they sate at Table, were much more delighted with the sweets of Temperance and innocent Mirth, than others are usually with all the abundance of a luxu­rious Feast; and when they rose, were not rendred unapt to praise him who had fed them.

Eubulus would have put off what remained, to another opportunity, but that Theosophus was willing to hear it out, and the young Con­vert was very uneasie, till he knew what be­fel him, after they two were separated.

Well, said Eubulus, I will proceed: We were, as I have told you (speaking to Theo­sophus) by the diligent working of that Ca­lodulus, a most faithful Servant, you know, unto the Loyal Philanax (that but lately was so judicially and yet so barbarously but­cher'd;) soon set at liberty. You may re­member also that I told you by what Art of his, Theomachus was prevailed with to re­lease Orthodoxus, who was in danger to tar­ry behind us. Thus we, who expected none other delivery but that of Death, were by the gracious appointment of Heaven, after a ve­ry short stay, delivered. Orthodoxus there­upon, I think, meant to leave the Island; Ʋ ­ranius, as a Shepherd, returned to the charge [Page 172] of his Flock; and I, lastly, went in search af­ter this Youth who sits by me, purposing ne­ver to see your face, until I should have found out either him, or some other bewilder'd Pil­grim, and brought him hither to be set and directed by you into the Way of Truth. Whom I found indeed heedlesly roving in the Paths of Death: [At this the abashed Youth modestly casting down his looks upon the ground, with Tears and Blushes, softly said unto himself, I remember my Folly:] But in which I shall ever rejoyce, I gained him over. Several times afore, dear Sir, he had refused; but now, contrary to his custom, he thanked me for my Charity, and with an honest free­ness consented to follow me.

We were not far from your Lodge, unto which the good old Eusebius had directed us, when the Tragedy first began. But you both know I am no Tragical Relator, and always love to pass such things by. Besides, this Youth can tell it better than I can.

After that you, my dear Youth, was torn from me by those Lictors of Conscience we met with in the Fields, I for some while heard your pitiful cries and shrieks; but not any ways able to deliver you out of their bloudy hands, I walked up and down in the Woods sorrowing, and quite despairing then ever to see you again. While I was thus sor­rowfully [Page 173] walking alone, this same Prayer, which I can yet remember, struck mine ears.

Most merciful, most holy A Prayer for the Church in time of Persecution and Tumults. Father, how is thy Name profaned, thy Truth sligh­ted, thy Temples polluted! how are we driven up and down like Sheep without a Shepherd! Though we are the Sheep of thy Hand, and part of thy Possession, yet are we scattered. Why do the People rage, and imagine thus a vain thing against the Lord, and against his Christ? Behold, O Lord, and have mercy: O let not the Gates of Hell prevail against thy Church. Thou hast pro­mised that they shall not prevail. Be merciful, be merciful, for thy Names sake have mercy on us; lest we faint and die in this Wilderness, and enter not into the Land of thy Promises, into the Regions of Peace and Charity, there to be blessed to all eternity with the fruition of thy Glory. Do thou, O God, who art the Author of Peace, and the Lover of Concord, in knowledge of whom standeth our eternal Life, whose service is perfect freedom, the most absolute liberty; defend us thy humble Servants, thy poor Pilgrims, from all the Assaults either open or secret, from within us or without us, of our and thine Enemies, that we surely tru­sting in thy Defence, may not fear the Power of any Adversaries Spiritual or Temporal, through the Might of Jesus Christ the Prince of Peace, our Lord and our Protector. Amen.

As I was considering whence it should come, a Lad running unto me courteously entreated me to step into the next Cave; for that (he said) several Pilgrims were hid­den therein, to avoid the heat of the Persecu­tion, who against the approaching Solemni­ties of Easter, desir'd to ease themselves by humble Confession.

I followed him, and having enter'd the Cave, found there Eusebius, that pious aged Pilgrim I told you of, the humble Chamalus, the abstemious Sophron, the weeping Ansel­mus, the incomparably devout Maria, the chast and matchless Parthenia, and the little lovely Child Erastus; all sitting together in a knot, entertaining each other in their turns with discourses of Piety and Religion. I heard them striving to celebrate that wonder­ful, that unknown Sorrow of their Lord, which was then by Holy Church commemo­rated, (it being the Passion-week;) but finding no Words were able to express it, they tried whether Tears could: and seemed (I think) to speak it best in the flittingness of their Eyes, and the burstingness of their Hearts. With beholding this goodly Spectacle I was highly pleased. And through fear lest I should disorder it, I stopped my self together with the Lad, whose name is Areteus, as soon as we were entred. But spying us, they [Page 175] came forthwith to the Caves mouth, carried me in, and shewed far greater respect toward me truly than I either deserve, or can with modesty relate. From thence, after that week of Sorrow was over, I brought them to the Temple, the place of our happy unex­pected meeting.

Then turning to the young Convert, & em­bracing him, he said, Now, my dearest Son, (for so I love still to call you) never were my grey hairs delighted with any thing more than with this your Return into the Bosom of our afflicted Church; afflicted and despised indeed, like her Lord and Master, crucified be­twixt both the extreams of Superstition and Profaneness. Your Friend Theophilus hath ever since I told him of your Rambling, sought after you sorrowing, and now con­cludes that you are dead. How glad will he be when we shall surprize him with this News!

Eubulus was here call'd away in haste by a Shepherds Boy, whereupon taking his leave of them abruptly, he onely said, that he hoped ere long to see his young Friend on his Pilgri­mage. Both could discern much sorrow in his looks, and would very fain have stopped him to know the cause thereof; but he being gone, were very much (especially the Youth) trou­bled at his sudden departure.

CHAP. XII.

ON the morrow the good old man and his Guest walking forth into the Fields to delight themselves with the pleasant resurrecti­on of the Spring, very melancholy that Eubu­lus had the night afore so left them, they di­scoursed together, remembring his parting words concerning this intended Pilgrimage to seek out the Site of Paradise.

I purposed yesterday, said the good man, forthwith to set you out on your Journey with Eubulus, had he not been call'd away from us; but now it has so fell out, I would have you tarry with me a while longer: and that I may be the better able to direct you in the Pilgrimage which you designe, I must beg, my Friend, since we are in the open air, and have leisure, to hear from you the History of your Life and your Travels, and how you came to be left in that miserable condition wherein I first found you, upon which Eubu­lus but slightly touched.

Reverend Father, (answered the Guest) I [Page 177] will, as well as I am able, relate unto you what you desire; though I am not now the same man I was, and can therefore onely give you a troublesome relation, (which you will not like) of a third person; having put off and disown'd quite my former self, receiv'd at your hands a second Life, and therewith learnt al­most to forget my past one. But thus it was.

I was born on that happy day wherein all Hearts were glad to see the great Basilius as­cend his Fathers Throne; and was soon after solemnly initiated, by Proxies, into the Chri­stian Faith. Ever since I have worn the Badge thereof, and am called TIMOTHEƲS; for at the sacred Font I received that Name: there the holy man took me into his arms and bles­sed me. During my Infancy it was very dif­ficult to judge which way my natural Bent did encline me. Yet there were some, who (per­haps to flatter my Parents) would often praise my childish looks and gestures, and seem to read my future Destiny in the Cradle. As soon as ever I could prattle and talk, my Mo­ther did her endeavour to infuse into me the Principles of Religion, and by winning Arti­fices to betray me to my Duty. And being afterwards continually under the inspection of a Father and a Tutor, I behaved my self so as not to miss of their Applause; nor could my [Page 178] Nature (being so restrained) in all this while break out: till at last I was sent to an Uncle, who inhabits the further part of this Island, to avoid the Infection of the Town which increa­sed dayly. Who received me with great ex­pressions of Joy, taking truly, whilst I tarried with him, no less care of me than of his own Son. At his House I became acquainted with an excellent person, one Theophilus, whom I remember that last night both you and Eubu­lus spake concerning; a Youth indeed of such noble Qualities and heroick Virtues, which made him attract the hearts of all who ever beheld him. I for my part was ravished with the native sweetness of his Temper, and found no delight except in his company; whom a­lone I made my Friend and Partner of my Breast. But alas! after some few months, I received the fatal Message of my Mothers death, and of my Fathers taking to the Wars.

It was a good while before I could recover of that Grief, with which I was seized by so unwelcome News. But I was no sooner come to my self, when out of a mad humoursome Frolick, I resolved to forsake my dearest Friends, and amongst them the good Theophilus also, who hath ever since, it seems, been seeking me. And to this end I perswaded my self, that I was now free from all Incumbrances of [Page 179] filial Obligations, and at liberty to rove whi­ther my Fancy should lead me.

Thereupon leaving my Uncle's house, I saw [...], &c. D. Barnab. Epist. p. 248. Voss. two Ways; the one was a small unbea­ten Trac, over-grown with Briars and Bushes, trodden onely by a few poor despicable Pil­grims: the other was a large spacious Road, paved under feet with the richest Marble, im­paled with Towns and Cities on each side, and every-where adorned with many curious and magnificent Structures. Which as soon as I perceived to be crowded with such vast mul­titudes of people, expressing Mirth and Jollity in their face and gesture, I could not be long detained from mixing my self among them, to find if there was any thing worthy to de­light so numerous and confused an Oglio of all Languages and Nations.

But as I was joyning my self unto this plea­sant Crew, there came up to me a venerable aged man, who pulling me by the sleeve called me aside. Honest Friend (says he) I am sorry to find you in this place, and with such Company. You mistake these men very much, if you guess at them by their looks: they are in truth the most fool [...]sh and unhappy Creatures in the World. Is it any pleasure, [Page 180] think you, to die with Laughter, or to run skipping into the Flames of TOPHET? Do you count those men the onely wise whose Phrensie makes them merry: or those happy alone who run hoodwinkt upon Misery? Ha­ving spoke these few words with more than ordinary vehemence, he was interrupted by them; for they had now perceived him di­scoursing with me, and knew presently what was therein his designe. Wherefore some of them plucked him by the Beard, others flung Dirt at him, some also spitting in his face, call'd him Old Dotard, whilst even Boys too taunted and reviled him, and the most moderate of a­ny bad him depart.

Thus being rid of my cumbersome Moni­tor, I accepted of their company, and freely assented to march along with them, and con­form my self to their Example in every thing. I first asked several of those who stood nearest me, to what place they were travelling so fast? Some said to this place, and some to another; but the more Ingenuous told me they knew not whither. Although I was not much sa­tisfied with such Answers, yet was I resolved to follow so jovial a Gang, if it were even to the Devil.

Then justling presently into the Throng, I was in an instant carried on several miles, be­fore I knew my self to be moved one step for­wards; [Page 181] till we came to a stately Palace very commodiously placed upon this Road, to en­tertain such unhappy mis-led Travellers as pass continually by. I was glad to rest my self any-where, and therefore without much ado yielded to take Repast at this Royal Inne, into which I was easily introduced among the rest. Where to see the flocking of Courtiers about a Stranger, made me welnigh run beside my Wits. Some accosted me with many ceremo­nious Salutations, interfering pretty fashiona­ble Oaths and modish Curses with their words: Others demanded what News from the Camp, and what both Armies intended to do that Summer; and one of a more comical humour than any of the rest, very gravely delivering himself in Redouts, Mantelets, Courtines, Pali­sades, and a thousand other as lofty Bantrums, would needs read to me a Lecture of the Art of War: Another sort would seem to pry deepest in all the Machivellian Artifices, and Muscovitish Frauds of crafty States-men; delighting to discourse of the Intrigues of foreign Courts. But the most pleasant of all were in my mind a parcel of Amorous Fools, as void of Sense as they were of Virtue. Had you but heard their Vows, their Protestations, their Dyings for Chloe a gaudy painted Quean, a foul rotten prostituted Strumpet; you would wonder that ever men could arrive to such a degree of Madness. [Page 182] Their immodest Pranks and filthy Pleasures, their lascivious Glances, their Dresses, their Motions, Gellies, passionate and languishing Speeches, had so much of the Devil in them, and so much of foolish Sin, and frantick Vice, that you I believe would have taken it for the very Bedlam of Hell. There sate an old decrepit dothing Lover, writhen-faced and bald-pated, toothless and blear-eyed, wantonly flickering over a young Girl: and there an old deformed Crone that could neither see nor hear, set off with her Pencil and Alembick-waters, caterwauling after a lusty Youth. You might have seen many of these philter'd and bewitch'd even to a piece of Pastbord, a painted Fiend, a bedaubed Picture. And if you observed too the effects thereof, you might have seen Paleness in this mans face, and Flushings in the others: one was burnt, and another freezed; was either scorched with Flames, or dissolved into Tears; had either his Bloud clodded with cold Damps and Affrightments, or his Heart tortured with excessive Burnings. These discoursed to me of their Amours, their Assignations, how many Hearts they had won, and such-like: enquired of me with what La­dies I had familiarity; how I liked Lesbia's Chin, and how the Eyes of Glycerium pleased me: whether Clelia's strait Limbs, or Chione's curiously curled Hair, did most become them: [Page 183] and whether the captivating Speech of Pam­phila, or the phained Languishings and pretty Coyness of Philaenis were most worthy.

Whilst we were thus foolishly talking, up there came to us a hussing Swaggerer, that could speak nothing but Rodomontades and Ga­sconades, whose bombast Phrases and lofty far-fetcht Metaphors made us indeed excellent sport. One that sate by jogged me, saying, This is the Court-Buffoon; he discourses ne­ver but in the Stile of Romances, in the same Stile he courts his Mistress, and their high strains he picks out to complement a Stranger with: he will now run you over his Adven­tures surpassing all the stories of Knight-Erran­try that ever you have read, and in Military Terms describe you the winning of a sorry weak Lady. After him a light finical Mon­sieur came to welcome me, whose ridiculous and freakish humour was not more to be laughed at than pitied; though pitied but by few, and laughed at by all the men of Sense; And many others also whom I have forgot­ten, not worthy to be remembred.

All this while there sate a Fellow very ful­lenly eyeing us, which made me enquire who he was, and wherefore he separated himself: One whisper'd me in the ear, that we reve­renc'd him not enough, being too familiar in the presence of his new Lordship. Telling me [Page 184] he had given no less than two hundred Crowns unto an Herald, to derive his Pedegree from such a Malo pater tibi sit Thersites, dummodo tu sis Aeacidae similis—Juven. Lord or Mar­quess, whose Family had lain defunct as many years: and that there was such ado to prove him descended from that Lords youngest Son, reported to have died during his Minority; that to bring this about, the old fusty Registers and worm-eaten Writings are sifted, and Names alter'd or forg'd: when in truth this vain-glorious Cox­comb is but just risen from the Dunghil, ha­ving for his true Father a beggarly canting Rogue, who for Burglary, Theft, and Mur­ther, was hanged upon a Gibbet: and he him­self raised to that pitch by minting false and counterfeit Money, robbing on the Highway, Lifting, Gaming, Sharking upon raw Country-Gentlemen. One of his Friends (he told me) had stoln the very Ensignes of Magistracy, be­cause tipt with Ore, and that he balked not after this to cast his filching eye upon the Dia­dem and Regal Ornaments: and his Brother also attainted for the most prodigious Sacri­ledge that ever was heard of, who could pre­tend Piety and a Sacrifice to the God of Hea­ven, even to plunder his Sanctuary, and to take thence the Golden Chalice and Sacred U­tensils, in which just afore he had received the [Page 185] most adorable Symbols of Life and Salvation. He shewed me others by him who had made themselves by the more lawful Thieveries of their Trades, by Cheats and Over-witting: and others advanced by meer Fortune, or their extraordinary Demerit.

I was now ready to bite my fingers for hun­ger, when there came up with the Dinner a long train of Waiters and Servitors, as if whole Forrests and Rivers were to be massa­cred for, and Hecatombs of Lives were not e­nough to satiate the Luxury of one Family. My stomach was not very mannerly, for I could scarce forbear falling to: But before the Dishes were marshalled, the Guests seated, and the Victuals carved, I thought I should e'en starve; not liking at all to be thus tanta­liz'd.

With your leave, Father, I will pass over their mysterious Arts of eating, their ways of provoking a dull Appetite, and the gentile In­tricacies of Cookery here used; which even the most infamous Apitius, the most beastly Voluptuary might blush to own. But yet their Guts (I can sadly remember) knew not shame: the keenest Satyrs were not able to pierce them. For highly honourable they e­steem'd it thus to pamper their Flesh: in this sense to make Gods of their Bellies, sacrifi­cing unto them the Preys of both Sea and Land.

I am ashamed to tell how destructive this voluptuous Entertainment proved not to them alone, but even to our selves, and what a change it wrought upon this wretched Carcass of mine. Sloath, Heaviness, uneasiness of Mind, straitwith seized me. The Bloud be­came corrupted, the Humours disordered, the Eyes dim; my whole Bodie distemper'd, my Understanding clogged with indigested loads of Meat, and clouded with unwholsome Fumes; my Brains dulled, my Spirits oppressed. So that hereby I was rendred wholly unapt for a­ny Exercise of Devotion, any Duty of Religi­on: I was made unable to stir one step to seek out Paradise, or to turn out of this Road into which I had entred.

Now being detained thus fast by the be­witchings of Intemperance, I was carried to see a Play. And truly Mr. Bays the Poet be­stir'd himself; for methoughts he drest up Vice so awkwardly, that we could not chuse but laugh, and yet liked it nevertheless. The Fol­lies and the Indiscretions, and the Humours of a ridiculous or a puny Sinner, were laughed at, whilst a more gentile and daring Bravo in Sin, come off with credit, was made the Hero of his Play. Such Arts had he of wooing the Desires, debauching the Phant'sie, as if the Poets Trade was to be Pandar unto the Lusts of every Spectator. Nor could the Poet yet [Page 187] with all his Cunning, afford us Fuel enough for our Vice, without the help of such gaudy Prostitutes as flocked hither.

Theosophus here interrupts him, saying, It is observed by an Tertull. de Spectac. Sacrarium Veneris, c. 6 antient Guide, that when Pompey the Great built his Thea­tre, fearing lest the leudness and impiety of the Shows, the horrible liscentiousness of the Scenes, might in after-times cause it to be pulled down and utterly demolished; he un­der a pretext of Religion dedicated it unto the Goddess Venus, and would have it called by the name of her Temple; and so I think it ever since has remained. The Devil that seized a Christian at these Sights, being de­manded by the Exorcist wherefore he durst do this, answered, it was his own Ground, and he did nothing but what was right. Whether his Plea be now just the same as it was then, I cannot tell; but the History I am a­fraid is too dayly verified in the greatest num­ber that frequent that place. It may be the effeminate Gallants of our Age, who by the burnings of Lust love to antedate their Hell, scarce count this a Punishment, and are ready almost to think the Devil good company that can be where such Mirth is. Indeed the Primitive Institution of the Stage was to correct Vice: now into what a World are we [Page 188] come, when that which ought to correct, is made to cherish Vice?

Then Timotheus went on again: After this the Ladies had me to a Ball. When I know not by what chance, looking but up to Hea­ven, there fell a drop of Gall (I think it was) into mine eyes, which made them see clearer, and discern it to be the ghastly Reveiles of im­pure Satyrs and womanish Devils. But such Witchcraft was in their eyes, that by but looking on them I my self was transform'd into one of them, and now took them for Angels. For here I first saw, and then admired, my Corin­na.

In such pleasures and disports as these, whilst I tarried here, I lavished away my time. Ha­ving gained so much familiarity in so short a space, I began now to be more inquisitive, and to ask admittance into the Presence-Chamber. What, says one, you would see the King, the Protector of the afflicted Pilgrims, and De­fender of their Faith: You are much mista­ken; that doting superstitious Prince is not to be found amidst these Revellings and Plea­sures, amidst the Joys and loose Caresses of this courtly and happy life. Believe me, you nowhere find him upon this Road, which he hath left for yonder narrow scraggie one. We hope the Sanhedrim will ferrit him about. A poor miserable Prince! his own Subjects [Page 189] rob him of his Crown, and plat a Crown of Thorns upon his Head.

One day as we were in the midst of our wild Jollity, we heard a noise and hurry in the Street. Every one went to see what was the matter; so that I was left alone. I was not long so; for no sooner were they gone, but in steps that same venerable person, who would have hindred my first ingress into this Road. Who coming to me before I was a­ware, thus spake to me with Tears: What have I caught you here, young man? At this I was so abash'd as not to know what to answer. Well, (continued he) are you now convinced of that I told you? What Rest or Pleasure do you think to find in this place, which it seems you have chosen out for your Quarters? Alas, if you do, you are quite de­ceived: much easier are they to be found in humble Cottages and Cells, in the poor Retreats of contented Pilgrims. For all these, whom perhaps you admire and envy for their Happiness, are indeed the most mi­serable Wretches that you can phancy to your self. What, these men miserable (said I) who are thus attended and waited upon, who feast splendidly, and see no days of sorrow or melancholy? No, no, you shall not delude me out of my Senses. Tell me not any more of Misery in this Jovial and Sportsome Company, [Page 190] in such Feastings as these, and the Pomps and honourable Retinue of this Great Man, the Riches of another, and the illustrious Name of a third. It may be you saw not how that Lord was adored, who sate by me. Ah, poor deceived Youth! (he replied) already you have lost your sight. The Love and the Dust of this World-hath blinded you: em­bossed Titles, glorious Vanities, have put out your eyes. Can there in hellish Beautie ap­pear such Loveliness, or can the bitterness of Aloes taste luscious to your Palate? Is it so desirable a bliss to be preyed upon by Para­sites, to be killed with the same breath they flatter you? They hold great Ranks, I con­fess in the World, and boast much their Pe­digree; but who knows whether that Page who was caught so often smiling upon his Lady, or another trusted Servant, or that Gentleman-Usher who used to steal into her Chamber, or that Physician whose frequent Visits were so welcome, be not the Father of the Child? Or else perhaps the Mother (and so it has been known) prostituted her Bodie to a Groom of the Stable, or let a Coachman who was privie to all her wanton Rambles, himself satisfie her Lust? You admire the Riches and the Happiness of yonder man, his Gold, his Silver, Jewels, Tapistry, and ma­gnificent abundance of every thing. Why, [Page 191] what of all this? Is he any thing the happier for these precious Superfluities? Look you but upon them, and you have then quite as much of them as he; are altogether as rich and happy as the Possessor himself. Do the bags of Money hoarded in your Coffers do you any more good than if they were carri­ed back to the Mines again, or drowned in the bottom of the Sea? Doth the Owner en­joy them any more than any other; nay, than the poor Beggar at the door begging an Alms? And wherefore have Nobles so many stately Palaces? If they inhabit them not, they may with as good (nay better) reason be said to be the Palaces of Mice, or the rich Mansions of Spiders and despised Vermin. Can you envie any mans Burthen, wish for this mans Riches and that's Power, for his Villa's and Lands, and the others Honours? Afar off they appear Admirable and Great; but nearer at hand nothing at all, nothing but Vanity and Vexation, but a Snare and De­ceit, painted Deformity and most loathed Ugliness. Pray, Son, be not angry with me for being so free with you; for I know not how to flatter you with Lyes; and by this Habit which I wear, I am obliged to tell you the Truth. Is the Dropsie a pain to the Bo­die, and Avarice a pleasure to the Soul; the Tympany a Disease in one, and Pride an Orna­ment, [Page 192] a gentile Quality in the other? Doth no man care for a Lethargie, and every one seek Security? If the Fits of an Epilepsie can be so frightful, how much more the Lapses of an Apostatizing Sinner? Who can endure the Burnings of a Calenture, and is Lust so plea­sant? How much nobler, I pray, is Sloth than the Scurvie; and what is your Fro­liking but the Megrim of a dizzie Brain? Whosoever sure can find satisfaction in any of these, may with as good reason flatter all the Diseases of humane Bodies, may court the Gibbet and the Rack, and take Torments for most pleasing Anodynes. Let me but tell you what I heard from a Traveller in this very same Road; and as coming from such an one I hope it will pierce deeper into your breast. He is as daring and presumptuous a Sinner, I believe, as ever travelled herein, a most profligate Wretch that has tried all the ways of lewd Delight, and left nothing of Wickedness unessayed. Yet with great se­riousness he once confessed, that in no act of Sin he ever took such pleasure, as was able to counterpoise the sorrow he afterwards felt: that he never committed what is sinful, but that as soon almost he wished it never com­mitted: nor ever trod one step further, but that he repented he had gone so far. He told me also what ghastly frighting thoughts [Page 193] he had when he was alone; what uneasiness he had within him, and what trouble and perplexity he hath all along met with in his Travels. But (which is almost past belief) he is so bewitched, that still he foolishly con­tinues to run on in this lamentable course: he still as wilfully as ever persists in his Wic­kedness, and cannot be perswaded so much as to step one step backwards. Pray, consider what I say, before it be too late; for all this but a short melancholy Fit made him ac­knowledge unto me. Depart therefore hence; hereafter possibly you may tell me the same as he. By those past good Deeds which else will be forgotten, by that Duty which you own unto your Parents, by that Love which once you did (or at least profest to) bear unto Theophilus, yea by that Love you bear unto your self; I entreat and adjure you to return with me, to return back into the Path of Life and everlasting Rewards: You are else, to all Eternity, undone.

I had not time to resolve what to do, before my Company came back; whom the old man seeing, slipped from me without being disco­ver'd. We have seen (said they) a slight Quarrel raised about the Love of Phillis. No­thing of Hurt is done: there is onely the Soul of Damocles by an unlucky blow sent in the shape of a Raven to play in the Flames of Hin­nom. [Page 194] And by such mad Laughter as this, were the words of my dear Monitor driven out. In these Jovial Merriments for several days we continued.

In which space I became acquainted with the voluptuous Hedonius, the whoring Pam­philus, the impudent Cynoeus, the plotting Pa­nurgus, the ambitious Philodoxus, the two Li­bertines Hippomanes and Atheus, the laughing Buffoon Gelasinus, and the trifling Adolesches, Philecous the Busie-body, Pseudocheus the great Lyar, and his Brother the Spreader of false News Polymythus, the Master of Complements Eutrapelus, the lascivious Museus amongst the Rhymers, Biberius among the Drinkers, Hu­guccio and Pamphagus among the Feeders, the inconstant Varius, the sloathful Philypnus, and several others that wore the Devils Mark. Twould be troublesome and tedious unto you, hard for me (having now forgot many of them) to characterize their Persons, describe their several Humours, and relate all the Pas­sages, not more vicious and branded, than ri­diculous and odde, which happened during my Abode with them.

Wherefore to omit all that, I being at last quite tired with this kind of life, resolved one way or another to break out of this stately Prison. (For that which at first I took for a Palace, I found to be a Gaol.) So having one [Page 195] day gained a fit opportunity, I fairly left them But I still continued on apace in my Journey, which now grew more delicious; whole Sta­ges of it being high stately Piazza's and broad Streets. At length I came to a turning, which declined toward the left. For I must tell you, that there is above a thousand By-paths, which though different, or even directly oppo­site to each other, do all alike lead unto the dismal Vale of TOPHET. This way was exceeding broad, and thronged by Passengers, (and those of no ordinary Quality) as much as the great one. The Streets were all Ta­verns and Stews, which made me leave the o­ther common Road, to turn in here for better Accommodation. Whereof there is a Descri­ption between two and three thousand years old; which I need but to use, it being so exactly fitted thereto, by not onely the Wisest of Men, and most understanding Observator of Hu­mane Actions, but one who had strayed with me in this very Way, and had experience e­nough, no man I believe will deny, as having 1 King. 11. 1, 2, 3. out of his own and all the bordering Nations, no less than seven hundred Wives Princesses, and three hundred Concubines at his Will.

It was, I remember very well, the Twi­light in the Evening, as the Night began to be black and dark, when I roved up and down [Page 196] therein; and behold, there met me a woman (Olympia she calls her self) with the Attire of an Harlot, and subtil of Heart. She caught me and kissed me, and with an im­pudent face talked unto me. Come, said she, let us take our fill of Love until the Morn­ing, let us solace our selves with Loves. With much fair Speech she caused me to yield, with the flattering of her Lips she for­ced me. She caught me again and kissed me: but mine heart already declined to her ways, I went astray in her Paths, I (poor Wretch) followed her straightway, as an Ox goeth to the slaughter, and as a Fool to the correction of the Stocks: as an Ox that thinks he is a going to the Pasture, willingly goeth to his own Destruction; and as a Bird hasteth to the Snare, not knowing that she is in danger; so I saw the Bait, and catched after it, but guessed not that it was for my Life. Not but that her House I knew well enough to be the way unto Hell, and the go­ing down to the Chambers of Death, though with her Eyes I was so strangely fascinated, as not to consider this; but rather to esteem these outer Courts of the Eternal Prison my Heaven and my Paradise. Here also I ligh­ted upon Corinna and Glycerium, Rhodope and Pamphila, Philumena and Coelia; and taken with their Beauty, went in unto them; not [Page 197] knowing (or not thinking) that the Dead were there, and that their Guests were in the depths of Hell. For their Lips dropt as the Honey-comb, their Speech was smoother than Oyl; but their End prov'd bitter as Worm­wood, sharp as a two-edged Sword. Their Feet every one could spie went downward, and their Steps took hold on Everlasting Death: They all hunted for the precious Life. Hence a Wound and Dishonour I got: I gave mine Honour unto others, and my Years unto the Cruel: Strangers parted my Wealth, and my Labours were in the house of a Stranger; and I mourned at last when my Flesh and my Bodie was consumed. This is the true sad Ac­count that I can give you of Solomon's simple one, and his young man that is void of Un­derstanding. Many were my Adventures in this place, but so bestial, and so foolish, that I think they will be much better passed by than related.

I was surprized to meet with here those very same men that I had left behind me at the Pa­lace; who after they had chid me for so lea­ving them, told me however they were very glad to find me where they did. And having now at last by my abode here, got Vice and Impudence enough, I was willing to return with them to the Princes Court; but was pre­vented by seeing just before me a very great [Page 198] City: to which I made haste. Whereinto be­ing entred, I met with so many Cheats, that I was afraid to tarry long. The Shops were fill'd with sophisticated Wares, Lying and De­ceit maintain'd the general Burse; and unto these every one had serv'd his Apprenticeship. Injustice and Falshood was in every place, and in every corner this most excellent Aphorism, viz WHATSOEVER TE WOƲLD THAT MEN SHOƲLD DO TO YOƲ, DO YOƲ EVEN SO TO THEM, was inverted.

Departing hence, I went on a good way, without meeting any thing that I remember considerable; till at last, casting mine eyes a­bout, I chanced to spy a mad man flinging handfuls of Gold up into the air. This he did, and many other absurd fantastick Pranks, as ridiculous and expensive, to gain the Applause of the By-standers. The Shouts and merry Ecchoes of the busie Applauders, and their Peals of loud Laughter had for a pretty while rung in his ears. He had now emptied since I came several large Coffers in a trice; and to complete his brave Extravagancy, he takes out of a small iron Chest what was left of his Pa­trimony, a bundle of Deeds. Which instead of Love-letters and Billets-doulx, he sends un­to his Mistriss Coelia. So not I alone, but e­very one also of those who were nearest to him, deserts him forlorn and hopeless.

When I saw an old Beggar, Chrysocancrio by name, a poor wretched wanting Caitive, be­reaved of all the Necessaries of Life, and al­most famisht with pinching Hunger and Cold; scraping together those pieces of Mo­ney out of the Mire. And having therewith fill'd an huge Trunk, he stood purdieu, like the Hesperian Dragon, to keep the Fleecy Gold. He appeared to watch very fearfully, lest his fin­gers should steal any thing thence, against his will, to buy him a piece of Bread. Though I laughed at the other, this I could not chuse but pity, and would fain have helped; had I not been called away to see one more raving mad than either of these.

His Looks were fierce and killing, his Hair bristled, his Eyes sparkled, his Mouth foamed, his Head joggled, his Voice was shril and pier­cing, his Brow frowning, and his Hands clutched. One while he would stamp and rend his Clothes, then beat his Breast, and tear his Hair; most dreadfully too he glared on me. This was the miserable raging Thumicus; followed he was by his Wife Xantippe the Scold.

By this time my old Monitor had again o­vertaken me; whose Voice ran before, as fast as he could send it, to call me back, and was ingeminated with bitter cries. The face of Thumicus began to burn and glow more ter­ribly and direly than it had before, when my [Page 200] Monitor caught hold on me, and said, You shall presently see all the Hags in Hell light their Torches at that Wretches face. But I could not now bear the company or the words of so reverend a man, and therefore thrust him from me; who departed holding up his hands and praying, I guess, for my Conversion. But, according as he said, the mad Bedlam­wretch was instantly all in a flame, as if indeed he was preparing to be the Fuel of Hell, and all the Vices and the Passions were lighted at his hellish fiery Countenance. They all blazed out together, and could not any of them be now suppressed. Whereby he was fitted for all acts of Villany, and even whatsoever he was most averse to. The most ran away to avoid him, but those who were left he fell upon, and one amongst the rest he bruised and beat.

From whom I had scarce got free, before I was encounter'd by somewhat like a Sceleton just raised from the Grave; a pale, livid, lean, meagre-faced Gentleman; whom a Devil, un­espi'd by him (O Hellish Martyrdom!) la­shed with a Whip of breaded Snakes. His Speech was hoarse, his Chaps faln, his Eyes sunk into his Head, with an unwelcoming cast where­of he welcomed me. And too much pleasant­ness, God knows, at that time appeared in my looks, to make this poor tormented Wretch scowl so gastfully.

You may perhaps have heard of one so ri­diculously revengeful, as neither to eat nor to drink, if he whom he envies but lives on bet­ter; this was that very person: He, like the Cantharides, delighted to feast on others Sores, and was never merry but at others Sadnesses: He had much rather see himself in Misery, than his Neighbour in Prosperity; and to go to To­phet alone, than with company to the Paradise of the Blessed. So was he his own Plague, his own cruel Tormentor, and the greatest Foe un­to himself. The sight of him told me Carri­on could not be far off.

And so I guessed right. For running away from him, as being afraid of so scraggie and mischievous a Fellow, I fell upon a lubberly unthinking Lurdan hard by, stretcht out (just as I have seen him expressed by the Painters fancy in his Poetick Regions of Crapulia, or the much-fam'd Isle of Lazy) under a Tree, from whose laden boughs dropped fair Fruit into his mouth; whilst seven beautiful Dam'sels were ready with Bowls of spiced Wines to quench his costly Thirst. I cannot tell whether I was infected by him I last met, or whether it was from my natural aversion to Sloth (the ugliest in my mind of all the deadly sins) that could not forbear repining at his Happiness: (For Happiness, alas, I thought it.) But the Ap­ples which looked so fresh, I soon saw to be [Page 202] the Apples of Sodom, Rottenness and Ashes; the Grapes, such as discovered our Father No­ah's nakedness; and the Wine whereof he drank, the Wine of Iniquity, and of eternal Vengeance. Now the Dam'sels which mini­stred the same unto him, delighted to prick him with Thorns, and so make him shrug; and then, pulling off their Vizors, with their gastly looks forced him to leap down into a fathomless Deep. After which he was never seen more. Whereat, sore affrighten'd, I left, with great horrour, this sad Spectacle of Luxu­ry and Sloth, and of the hurtful Dalliance of a wanton Fortune that is attended on by all the deadly sins, those seven flattering Furies in who­rish disguise.

But this stopped me not in my Journey, but I rather went on the faster for it. For having all sorts of Company to divert my self in, such an Accident as this could not long trouble me. On this side of me passed the Rash and Fool-hardy, and would fain seem va­liant; but that every one judged him fitter to rave in an Hospital of mad men, than in a­ny other place: his Brain was hot. On the other side of me passed one whose Bloud was thick and muddy, and his Brain frozen; and he would seem, forsooth, to be wary; but his Mind was really perplexed with Fears and Dis­quiets, whence he would startle if a Mouse did [Page 203] but stir, or a Flye buz in his ear; be frighten'd out of his little wits at Armies under ground: He was laughed at by every one, and called Poltron and Dastard. In another File marched the fond Cockering Mothers, and the cruel Step-dames; they with Kindness, these with Ʋnkindness, both alike destroying their Chil­dren: Then the Busie-bodies and the Idle both together; for both had equally nothing to do: There Sir Formal, and here Squire Freak, waited on by Petulance and Levity: A nice dapper Fellow on that side; a dirty Slouch on this, who took such a Pet at the other, that, rather than appear like him, he studied how he might be offensive unto every one, and was well e­nough pleased to be thought an Enemy to all Decency and honest Comeliness; one of a sul­len Gravity, and a rugged Behaviour; spruce Ruffillus, and slovenly Gorgonius: The Makebates, and the Flatterers: The Drun­kards staggering, those who had lost their limbs in the Devils service halting, and not a few who were carried on Couches and Down-beds: Some (like Dogs) grinned, and others bar­ked; some did fawn, and others bite: The Fingers of them were crooked. and the Tongues of these were forked: Some had pointed pry­ing Eyes, and others scowling ones: Some had them misted with Ignorance, and others bloudshot with Revenge.

After I had thus gone on a good way, I fell into the company of some that appeared to be utter Enemies to the Devil's Kingdom, and therefore I judged my self safe, and quite out of my way to him. For these were outwardly so fierce and zealous Opposers of him, as to fight against him (which you will think strange) in several Set-Battels with Powder and Shot. Their manner was to bring back those who (they said) were going to him, with Sword or Fire: they would pistol or faggot you, if you went not along with them; and cried out, all were damn'd and in the way to Tophet, that follow'd them not. So now having their En­couragement, and Attestation to the truth thereof, I concluded, it is impossible for me not to be sav'd: I shall be happy in both Worlds. Then poor deluded I travelled down apace with them, ran merrily and blindly on; till at last we met with their Heads, Merozius, Diotrephes, Santomero, Don Hugo Pedro, and Mariana. But having long before well enough known them by their names, I began to think my self, for all this, never the farther from the Devil. But their beloved Principle, that Do­minion is founded in Grace, and that we were the sole Proprietors of the Earth, kept me from starting back. While I was with them, they used to discourse very irreverently of the sacred Person of Basilius, and to rail much a­gainst [Page 205] the Heresie (as they called it) of Cy­prian. They talked secretly of many myste­rious Intrigues and treacherous Designs against the Life of our pious Prince; and not onely so, but I could hear them closely project the Ruine and Fall of all Principalities under Hea­ven. I found now that their Plottings were not against one peculiar place or Monarch, but against Government and Monarchy it self, and the whole Managery of the Universe. In such symbolical them as these, they threatned within the period of a few years, to lay the Northern Lion Couchant, to transplant the Fleur-de-Luces into another Soil, to pinion the Wings of the Western Eagle, to pull down the Triumphant Cross, and make the Crescent Moon dwindle into Stars.

Thus wise did they menace Destruction un­to every Land, and boasted their Readiness and their Power to lay all Kingdoms into Rubbish and Ashes, and to reduce the whole World in­to Confusion, Anarchy, and Chaos; as there approached us Martial men terribly accou­tred: who lived upon Bloud and Booty, and enquired of us (not after the best Cause, but) the best Pay. But as they rushed into the Battel, promising themselves great Honour and great Plunder, some of them were cut off, and the others were miserably mangled.

I cannot omit to tell you of some who [Page 206] were Spectators of this unhappy Tragedy. They reserved their Plaudit for the last Act, siding the mean while with both Parties, sure to neither; christening this their Neutrality, Moderation; their Temporizing, Religion. The most cunning of whom spoke always in dubious Terms, leaving themselves a liberty to expound the same, as the Victory should decide, and Times serve.

At this Theosophus bad him stay; so they both perceived afar off a very hot Scuffle be­twixt two Caravans of Pilgrims; one of them, as near as they could guess, bearing for their Colours the Lion of Judah rampant, and the other the mild Lamb of God. These last, they could see, made but small Resistance, and be­ing not many, were soon routed by the first, who were far more numerous. Yonder (said the good man) I fear there is our Orthodoxus and Eubulus, with their Pilgrims. At which they both for some while most sadly wept. But Theosophus desirous to hear out the Narra­tive of his Friend, bad him go on, saying he could not be weari'd at the length thereof, or grow unattentive to what he so sweetly re­lated.

Which accordingly Timotheus did. After so many Scenes of Madness (said he) were past, I admired to see a man that could look two ways at once, both behind and afore; whose [Page 207] Discourse and Admonition shewed the way to Paradise: whose Life, to the quite contrary place. Sitting in the Chair of Moses and the Prophets, there he had learnt to speak fluently the Language of Canaan, the pious Eloquence, the divine Rhetorick of the Blessed; while in his more retired Privacies he never but used that of Babylon, of Pride, Impiety, and Con­fusion; made all his Actions suit with the I­dioms of the Beast and of Hell, the Speech of the Accursed. Thus going one way, he still pointed another; and advised every body to go in that, whilst he shewed them this.

With him there went a pack of griping hol­low-hearted Saints, provided with double Tongues and most heavenly Visages. These I took for men of another World at first, (though not long) and verily believed again that I was travelling not up, but down to Paradise; that we were all certainly trooping thither. Do you see, then said one, yonder demure Pre­cisians, casting up their sanctified looks to Hea­ven? They that without appear as mortified and holy as the Primitive Pilgrims, have with­in them the Impurities of a Brothel-house, and the Covetousness of Usurers; come, let us go teaz and make sport at them. Instead of being daunted, I was mightily pleased, to discover what they were; and began to be bold and confi­dent, not afraid, that I was in the wrong way. [Page 208] Seeing them wear the Image and the Livery of God, every one hated them, and laughed at them, (just as we should at Asses in Lions, or Wolves in Sheep skins; or as we should at Jackpuddings in the Garb of Senators.) We all detested their painted Sanctity, thought them Devils transformed into Angels of Light; but we detested them not as Devils, but as disguised, as them who were ashamed of bare­faced Vice.

A little farther several I saw climing up a steep Precipice, on the top whereof was the Idol of Honour. So ungrateful were these, as to throw down whom they had made the means of their Rising; but on a sudden, by a cross Wind, they were also tumbled head-long down. A few were singular, and would go in those Paths which none ever before had trodden: Fawning Murtherers there were likewlse that hung upon, and morose Timons, Manhaters, that separated from us: Many a Narcissus en­amoured with himself, and many a biting Mome vomiting up nothing but Gall and Bitterness. We had also with us a poor Fellow who freely consented to go to HELL, if so be any of us would but bear his Charges upon the Road: Another brave Fool I knew, who would ven­ture his Estate and his Soul, at the Cast of a Dye. Before us trotted very scurvily one of the Devils Pack-horses, an old Fellow who had [Page 209] broke his back with carrying a great heavy Chest of Money, and yet notwithstanding this, would not rest till he came to his Journeys end. He was followed, at least, by half a dozen Asses braying at him. O my good Fa­ther, you have given me too hard a Task; I think I shall never get through this Scene of Follies. There was one whom I extremely laughed at, that betwixt Hopes and Fears was, with Lazarillo de Tormes, tost in a Blanket. One I saw build, and then pull down what he had built, and then build again, and so on; ne­ver pleased, but striving to out-vie even Time in Mutability, out-do the Inconstancy and Change­ableness of whatsoever is most inconstant and most changeable. I should have wondred more at him, but that I had seen him afore prettily represented in a Draught of Zeuxis, by a naked man snipping into shreds a piece of Cloth; a­fraid therewith to apparel himself, because he knows not the Fashion. Another whose Face was clouded with Sorrow, I and my Camrades did all we could to comfort; but for this giving us a very unfriendly look, he turned away. His muttering and odde Demeanor taught us that he was faln out with the Times, was an uncon­tented Admirer of the past, and Hater of the present; not because bad, but present. His bloted Tongue knew not how to speak well of any body, was ever inur'd to Invectives and [Page 210] sinister passionate Reflections: all those that were either great or good, (or but seemed so) he was not able to abide: he cursed both his and their Fortunes: Happy he could not be as he wished, and therefore he would (in Spight) be Miserable. Next went the Malicious, de­stroying and pillaging one another. And af­ter these several others.

Now all these could shew me each others Mistake; the Covetous Father preached excel­lently against Prodigality and Laxury; the Prodigal Son against Covetousness; the Sot ran out into an Harangue against the Stews; and those who frequented them, had as much to say against his Mopish Drunkenness. Nor was there any Vice, but which was thought blame-worthy by the Vicious themselves. But as for Virtue, (my good Father) that was so amiable, as e­ven against our Wills, we had a love for it: nay, some, as I have told you, counterfeited it; and none I ever knew so far gone, but had with reluctancy a certain reverence for virtuous per­sons. So true is it, that Virtue desires but to appeal to the Bar of her Accusers, and to be judged by her greatest Enemies; whilst Vice shuns the Verdict of her chiefest Adorers. E­very one knew the other was in the wrong, though he himself was not in the right; could refute the gross Follies of the rest, though he the while was as grosly fooled as any.

I observed many more whom I cannot now call to mind; but none I observed so much (and that too all the way I came) as a cunning Mimick, that could shape himself into all forms, and vary as often as his Company: could comply with every mans humour, accommodate himself unto every Time and Place. He would speak fair, yea words smoother than Oyl, unto this man; but unto another that was his Enemy, he would speak words of him piercing him through, sharper than a two-edg'd Sword: He could lye, cog, wheedle, cajole every Party, insinuate himself into every Breast: with these he could swear, and with them he could pray; here none was more profane, nor there more devout: none was a better Pot-companion, and none more a Trencher-Friend; swilling with some, and rioting with others: He could feast with the Luxurious, fast with the Religious: Was brisk or grave, merry or sad, according as he pleased: Knew how to tickle the Ambitious, to pimp for the Incontinent, to rally with the Jocose: Sometimes would act a Prince, other­times a Beggar or a Clown; and at several times personate both a Devil and a Saint. Insomuch that being extraordinarily delighted with the variableness of his Humours, his wicked cunning and civil Address; I was always, if it were pos­sible, in his company, thereby at length ac­quiring such a Familiarity, as upon the account [Page 212] of sin can be acquired. Now being equally of all, and equally scoffing all Religions, for our diversion he would needs one day carry us over into the Religious Quarters.

By this time the day grew hot, and Theoso­phus perceiving that he was now about to en­ter on a fresh Discourse, told him he might leave off a little while, till they had refreshed their Senses, and recruited their Bodies: So they turned back into the Lodge. In their re­turn homeward, there happened a pretty odde Accident, which was thus: Hearing a Cry, I will be the death of her, again and again repea­ted, they saw a Lady presently, who appeared very beautiful, ride by them upon a fair Pal­frey, carrying before her a man bound hand and feet. Timotheus straight knew the man to be the effeminate Philogynus, whom Parthenius was gone to seek after. He therefore step'd to him, that he might unbind and set him free. But as soon as he was taken from the Lady and unbound, he was highly displeased, and bound himself again. It was in vain either for Ti­motheus or the old Father to disswade him; for they found that he was deaf, and could not hear any thing they said: but had he been onely so, the very sight of Timotheus would have been enough to work upon him; but he was also blind, and could not see the Beauty and the Amiableness of a young Convert. He was [Page 213] not indeed speechless, but they could hear him say nothing but sweet Sirenia, charming Sirenia. This had like to have cost the Lady her life, for the Fellow behind who made the Cry and ran after with a naked Sword threatning to kill her, but had miss'd of her, now returning back, saw her here. Timotheus knew him to be Pamphilus his old Acquaintance, and running to him stop'd his hand from Murther. But after he was disarm'd, and seemed to be very well reconcil'd to her, just as Theosophus and Timotheus were leaving them, he fell upon her again, calling her false Whore, tore off her Dress, and shook her so violently, that made her catch at her Hair as it was dropping from her, and was not able to save her borrowed Teeth from falling to the ground. So that the Spark Erotion, who here overtook her and came in to her Rescue, was startled to see his fair Lady Sirenia transform'd into a foul taudry Quean.

CHAP. XIII.

AFter they had a little refreshed themselves, and offered up (as was the laudable cu­stom of Theosophus) their Noontide Orisons, the young Guest being sollicited thereunto, thus proceeded in his Narration.

I have told you by whom we were carried into the other Quarters to divert our selves. Behold (said he) now, whether in Religion there be any thing more than mere Imposture and Blindness: Judge, I pray'e, but from this View, whether there can be any such place as an Aetherial Paradise to be desired and sought after, or as an Infernal Tophet to be feared and avoided. Though there are not lacking those who can give exact Maps of I know not what Subterraneous and Supracoelestial Worlds, can describe their Confines, Limbo's, and exteriour Courts, and therein allot you forth and sell you Apartments at good rates: Shall we therefore be such fearful Fools as to be frighted at the silly created Phantasms of melancholy Heads, [Page 215] of dull insensible Ascetics, and the Tricks of the cheating Guides of Souls? Let them but agree about the Way thither, let them tell me where to find their unfound promised Land, their in­visible unknown Country; I will then (but not otherwise) believe there may be such a place as the Holy Land above. Thus spake the foolish blustring Atheist, and commanded us to look.

I. First he shewed us the Kingdoms of Darkness. In these dark Regions which the Dawn of the Sun of Righteousness and Light eternal, the Day-spring from on high, hath not as yet visited; we saw the blinded Souls bow down to Baalim and all the Infernal Deities. You may guess how pleasant a sight it was to see so many miserable men groveling in the Night, unenlighten'd by any Ray from Heaven, to give that Honour which is due alone to the Creator, to Creatures and Apostate Angels. Some worshipped the Heavens, with all their numerous Hosts the Stars: Some made the Sun their God; Others, their Paradise; praying to dwell in his Civitas Solis. Campanello. City, inhabit his Light: The pale Queen of Night, the Moon, and the North-Star had their Adorers: (By the last they thought to be guided into the place of their Desires, and in the first a new World was created by some, which by others was made the Habitation of blessed Spirits:) Some also deified the very [Page 216] Elements, and accordingly chose to be buried in the Earth, burned in the Fire, drowned in the Water, or hanged in the Air. We could see a wretched Prince mangling himself, fall down before an Idol that sate on a fiery Throne, a Monster crested with four Horns, and crown­ed with three Crowns. Hither also Pilgrims resorting stab'd themselves with Knives: These threw pieces of its cut Flesh into its Face, that was horribly bedaub'd with humane Bloud: Others desired to be crushed to death by the Chariot-wheels; and Women sticked not to prostitute their Bodies for the Idols maintenance. It was a very sad Spectacle to behold all their barbarous Sacrifices, their fordid, base, and cruel Gods; greedy, murtherous, insatiable, Bloud-sucking Devils. The Religion (alas) of so many consisted not in any thing else, but Howling and Dancing, Singing, Feasting, and Slashing themselves. Not altogether so ridi­culous I think as these last, were those in ano­ther large Field, who prayed to the first thing they met with that morning, to an Ass or a Goose, a Whelp or a Kitling, a Marmoset or Jack-an-ape; and so with every new Morn had a new God. The Birds and the Fishes, Trees and Strawen Gods were sacrificed unto: The very tops of the Hills were fed with Meat and Drink; nor much unlike were those who feasted their dead Friends with Bread and [Page 217] boyled Flesh, washed, painted, and new-clo­thed them, prayed to them in white Gar­ments, and sent along with them Provision for several years Travel. Next we observed great Troops to pay such Devotion unto one of those Rivers supposed to have sprung from the Terrestrial Paradise, as if by its virtue alone they were little less than sure to regain the same. So others also washing in a Well, thought therein to cleanse their sins, and car­ried away its Sand as sacred Reliques. Besides these, there were Idolaters that believed not one but many Paradises, unto which every pe­culiar God was to lead his Worshippers. But with their own they were so in love, as to drown and stab themselves, to fast and pray themselves to death, and run with gladness to be cast down from high Precipices by their Go­gins; (men truly I think not disguised like, but rather very Devils.) At this, O God (said the pious Theosophus) when will be the Fulness of the Gentiles?

II. After these, whose blind Superstition had taught them to fear a burning Pit towards the West, and pray that they might be carried beyond the Mountains into Pleasant Gardens, there to dance and rejoyce with their Forefa­thers; we marked the no less besotted Follow­ers of Mahumed, the victorious Antichrist, going a Pilgrimage to Mecca. We had time to [Page 218] view their several hypocritical and impious Or­ders, and hear rehearsed the absurd ridiculous Tenets of their Law.

III. When we had long enough observed them, we turned our eyes upon numberless Ca­ravans of Pilgrims, infinite petty divided Sects together by the ears, bickering and fighting very hotly; all closely over-rul'd by a Necro­mancer sitting in the Infallible Chair. Amongst whom were Genevesians, Munzerians, and Dip­pers, Catharists also, such as would not pray, Forgive us our Trespasses. Some went naked, naming this the State of Innocence, and their Meetings, Paradise. There was the Family of Love, the Brethren of the Mountains, of the Vallies, of the scatter'd Flock, the Seekers, the Ranters, the Soul-sleepers, and the mad sense­less Shaking Fraternity, hammer'd out (as my Atheo Humoroso told us, and proved from Au­thentick History) by the busie working Igna­tians; all zealously contending for the Victory. Some there were who professed no other Duty but Prayer, and others but Silence; a third sort would enjoy no earthly thing, a fourth said the things of the Earth to be the Lords, and consequently theirs; a fifth bragged of Revelations, a sixth of Miracles, a seventh re­jected all means, stood still relying upon God, but an eighth trusted wholly on them, thought by his Righteousness to climb up into Heaven, [Page 219] whilst the other would not stir one foot of the way. Others denied the Divinity of the ever­blessed Jesus, led by Socinus of Siena: Mille­naries brought him down from Heaven to reign upon Earth: Some mad Cabalistical Brains would have no Christ but Holiness, would have his Virgin Mother to be Love, his Paradise to be Virtue, and its four Rivers to be Justice, Prudence, Temperance and Fortitude; so turning all Religion into an Allegory: Even the devilish Theauro John, and the most bla­sphemous Enthusiasts, had their Followers. But now some held all these Religions (or ra­ther Phrensies of a distemper'd head) to be true; all Pilgrims to be in the right Way, and not one to be in the wrong; and that to think, was enough to make, themselves secure: Some would be of the Religion of the Conqueror, of the strongest side, and whensoever he was outed, then they tacked about to another: Others wandred so long from this Path into that, from Party to Party, and Religion to Religion; till at last they came to be of none at all.

Seeing one separate himself from all these, we enquired of him what was his Faith? who giving us a proud look over his shoulders, told us he was a Philosopher. At this I wondred much: For I never thought a Philosopher (such an one as this) was of any. For how can he be of any Faith, who counts it his Pri­viledge [Page 220] to throw it off; or else to make it truc­kle under his Reason, and whatsoever he is pleased to give that name to, though it be ne­ver so unreasonable? Wherefore for confirma­tion in this lewd course of life, in which I was so deeply now engaged, I used to hear the shal­low Disputes of such Naturalists, the rigid Re­quirers of Reason in things above it; and even against that Reason which to themselves they so proudly arrogate. These corrupt Philosophers reckon it a greater Honour the being denomi­nated from Aristotle or Des Cartes, than Christ himself: had rather wear the Badge of a found Plato or a learned Epicurus, than of the humble and the holy Jesus: and think Julian's Reproach of Galileans highly honourable; if so be the Disciples (not of a crucified Saviour, but) of a Galileo, be thereby meant.

But what, I pray'e, is theirs out yonder? (said I, then first spying a great company of Religious, marching in another Road.) Interest, answer'd one. Then again I asked, observing them to take the most pains of any, for what they did and suffer'd so much? For their Inte­rest, said the same person smiling. And next, Whither were they travelling? Whithersoever Interest (said he) leads: and where else do you think that is, but to the Devil?

Many of us need not have been advised which of all these Ways to chuse; for the [Page 221] Devil of Gain (though indeed the most per­nicious and troublesome one in all the Squadrons of Ghe-Hinnom) seemed to be a very sociable, a very desirable Devil. And therefore forth­with they flung themselves into Mammon's Caussey, (so it was call'd) trotting on, as fast as ever they could go, Helwards.

As for my part, I presently took the Way of Indifference; not much professing any side. The rest that were left made Liberty of Con­science their Religion. Onely he that brought us, (I mean my mad Humorist) so shifted from the one to the other, and dexterously dis­guised himself among them, with both feigned tone and looks; that after some while we, much against our Wills, lost the sport of him.

Afterwards in my Travels I met him alone, being sate down to rest himself very melan­choly. Stay a little, Tim (said he to me) you never heard me speak a true word in my life to you, but now you shall. We are in a sad case, we are not now many miles from the Flaming Tophet. God bless me, said I, thereat startled; but did not you tell me there was no such place? I did, says he, and so did the Phi­losopher my Friend, but we could not believe so our selves. I told you that we were no­thing but Matter and Motion, and that it was a Contradiction to say there can be a [Page 222] Substance which is not material: that conse­quently there could be no such part within you that can exist without a Body, and that whatsoever is not Body, is Nothing. But if you and I were nothing but Matter and Motion, we should be but pretty odde kind of Puppets. For turn and move, condense and rarifie Matter how you please, I believe you will be scarce able to make it sensible. Sup­pose you could out-do Architas his Dove, with the Eagle and the Fly of the German Artist; suppose you could make humane I­mages to speak, artificial Birds not onely to flie, but also sing, Serpents to hiss, and Dogs to bark and bite; Do you think it possible, if by your Art you could do all this, to ever make them see or hear, to make them eat, and di­gest what they eat, to feel, and smell, and tast? It is wholly unconceivable how any thing should be made sensible by Springs. But I told you fine subtil Matter will do strange things: therefore I tell you now, that let Matter be never so thin, it is still Matter; nor is Fire any more capable of Sense than Lead is. Now though it be never so absurd, suppose that Matter is not altogether insensi­ble, and that a Board may be made to per­ceive as well as a Man, or (what a profound­ly learned Atheist said) that a Clock or a Jack are as much Animals as We are; yet do you [Page 223] think that if it could increase and grow, and were sensible, it would therefore discourse, and think, and invent, and recollect, and phansie? If you do, I will not say you are a mad man, but such an one is the Atheist, and worse: For he believes that all this came to pass (not by any Art, but) by Chance, by the wild jum­bling of Atoms together. I do not ask him who put this Matter into motion, but surely some body must; for Matter can never put it self into motion. I tell you, there is no Ab­surdity so great that he who once sets up for Libertinism must balk at, so he can rank him­self among the Beasts that perish. Do you blind your self first, and I shall be ready then to prove to you, that that glorious Planet which now heatens us with his Rays, is not seen by any, and is a mere Fiction of the Astro­nomers; with as much ease, as that his Author is the Device and Phantom of the Spiritual Guides. He that has seen but the structure of an Eye, or any other, or all the parts toge­ther, and remains an Atheist, is resolved to remain so. But (according to the Lucre­tian or Epicurean Doctrine) you will say, all this Variety, Aptness, and Symmetry of Parts proceeds from the Seeds of the things. An Answer unbecoming a Philosopher, and alto­gether as ridiculous as the occult Qualities of the old Aristotelians. For whence have these [Page 224] Seeds that virtue? is it from their Figure or Contexture of Parts? Here we are silent. Be­sides, it has been proved by a learned Author, that the Matter of the Seed enters not into the composition of the Body. We cannot, with all our bustle, tell why an invisible point in the Egg should grow up into a Chick, and why not as well into a Calf. We can say it is from the Seed or some plastick Vertue in it, from its Fitness or from its Nature; and then we think we have given a very Philosophical Account. This is so far from disproving an all-wise Author, that it rather proves him to be. For what can be more admirable, than that in so small an Atom so small a part of the Seed, should lie hid the power of Life and Ve­getation, and all the Organs and Parts of a Plant, or a Tree, or an Animal. This seems to me a Convincing Proof that there is an Au­thor of Nature, and that Nature is nothing but the Art of God. There are curious Micro­scopes that will shew you enough in a Flye, to make you admire the Deity; and discover to you the beauty, the evenness, and smoothness of Contexture in the meanest Works of Na­ture, a Leaf or Flower; and the roughness and craggedness of the finest artificial things. He that sees contained in a Cubick Inch many hundred thousand little Animals, having all their exact Parts and perfect Life in them, [Page 225] must be very stupid if he can attribute this to any but a most powerful and expert Artist. He that looks up upon those many vast Orbs scatter'd in the Heavens, and by the help of his Glasses can descry innumerable more, would be very inconsiderate if he should con­clude them the effect of sole Mechanism, and fortuitous justling of an uncreated eternal Chaos. There is a Quere not much less than two thousand years ago put to us, which not­withstanding all our study, we have not yet learnt to baffle; and that is, If all this could be done by Atoms▪ why might not Atoms build an House or a Temple, which are far more easie? I tell you truly, you may as well think that Book of God (which those poor Pilgrims yonder in the Narrow Way pay such a iust Veneration unto) to be made onely by the concourse of Letters ranging themselves into such an Order, and never to have been dictated or written by any: I say, you may as well believe this, as that this o­ther Book of God, the vast Volume of Nature, (which so justly deserves our Admiration) was not made by an Intelligent Author. You may believe this if you please, and then you are fit to believe any thing, so you may not be­lieve there is a God, and that you have a Soul to forfeit to him. You may believe that A­toms can rig out a Fleet of Ships, and build the [Page 226] City as well as make the Men that inhabit it. For how inconsiderable is this, to the Mass of the whole Earth, and its Inhabitants? Yet the Earth is held to be scarce a Physical point, if compared to the rest of the Ʋniverse. But though it be never so demonstratively proved that there is a God, yet there are some few (whom you and I know) that, if they can­not comprehend him, think they may lawful­ly doubt whether he is, or not. As if the most perfect Essence should be comprehensible to such Worms as us: more justly might Beetles think to comprehend what we are. Have patience a little, and I will shew you how foolish an E­vasion this is. I am now very much upon the supposing: Suppose therefore again, that you were born blind, and knew not what sight was, how should you be able to conceive what Colour is? Suppose also you had never been able to smell, how could you have been made to apprehend the odours of a Rose or of Jessamine? I will bid you once more sup­pose your self naturally deaf, tell me how could you paint in your phancie a Concert of Musick? Yet I judge there is the same reason why our imperfect and corporaliz'd In­tellect cannot comprehend what Spirit is. Nor is it to be wondred at, that whatsoever is Spiritual is above our comprehension: the com­monest and ordinariest things in Nature, are almost as unintelligible and hard to unravel, as [Page 227] many things in Faith that put weak heads to a stand. But those whom the formation and colour but of an Hair would be enough to puzzle, think if they cannot understand the nature of their Soul, they may deny that it ex­ists: And though Philosophy cannot give a satisfactory account even of Body, end deter­mine of what it consists, whether Divisibles or Indivisibles; yet they look that Theologie should give a better account of Spirit. He who because he could not solve all the Diffi­culties, denied there was any such thing as Motion in the World, err'd quite as pardonably as he that upon the same reason can deny a Deity, or an immaterial Being. There are undeniable and demonstrated truths in the Mathematicks themselves, [such as, that there may be an Angle which cannot be divided; that the two Squares of the two sides of a Tri­angle are equal to the square of the Base; that the Centre and the Circumference can be the same; that two Parallelograms upon the same or equal Base, and within the same Pa­rallels, though one be drawn out a thousand times, or infinitely the length of the other, are yet both equal:] that are not much more comprehensible than the greatest Mysteries in Religion. You may believe me, I have found as much Demonstrativeness in the Principles of Religion, as in the rigid Science of Geometry; [Page 228] though not of the same kind: for that would be as ridiculous, as if one by drawing Lines and Triangles should go to demonstrate that Julius Coesar lived so many hundred years a­go, or use Circles to prove that a Bird is born out of an Egg. And I my self have laughed as heartily at the old Philosophick Poet, when he perswades his Memmius that the Mind consists of little round Seeds, as when he would prove the Sun to be no bigger than it appears. That there is such diversity of Opi­nions, although I urged it so much, it proves no more against Religion, than it does against Philosophy: and will serve for quite as good an Argument against us, that there are mali­gnant faln Spirits which cause these Differen­ces, as that these Differences about the Way should prove there is no Paradise. Since therefore such solid and self-evident Truth is on Gods side, we do foolishly to be imposed upon by Quibbles, (though never so ingeni­ous ones.) For if there is a God, he must be just; and if he is just, there must be a Tophet: so firm is that Conclusion of the wise Heathen, that either there is no God, or else there is a Punishment for the Wicked after life. Here I interrupted him, and said, I never thought be­fore that you could preach: come, answer me but this Objection, and I will get you Prefer­ment. If this is true that you frighten me with [Page 229] about Tophet, what will become of those mad Beasts that kill men, break down Hedges, steal Sheep, are cruel, or are lascivious? Methinks they deserve an Hell as much as us. And since 'tis agreed that they have no part which super­vives the Body, why should it not be with us, as it is with them? Answer me; I believe this gravels you. Nothing perchance (said he) in all Natural Philosophy is obscurer than what concerns the nature of Brutes: Were this certainly and cleerly known, it is likely that your Quere would appear of small force. However, it is plain, there is difference e­nough betwixt our Souls and theirs. For they cannot understand, like us, what Law or Justice is; are not touched with any sense of Good or Evil, Virtue or Vice; they are not capable to know what Faith or Religion is; to reflect upon, and search into their own na­ture, or the nature of any thing else; and can­not comprehend in their Brain an easie and de­monstrated Axiom, but onely know what con­cerns them. Now to search out whence proceeds this Difference, if you would look into every part about you, every little corner and repository of the Brain, see it Willis Cerebri Anatom. p. 4. & p. 66. anatomized, you will find it to be almost the same with theirs; whence by natural consequence it follows, that part by which [Page 230] we differ from them is purely spiritual, and has not the least cognation with Matter; else (our Brain being form'd like theirs) it were impossible for us to produce Operations diffe­rent from theirs. Hence it also follows, that we and they ought not to be alike accountable for what we do. For whereas it would be absurd to think that they, who are uncapable of acting either what is vicious or virtuous, should be condemned or rewarded; so would it be equally absurd (the reasons being just contrary) to think otherwise of us: and though there is no reason why those, who can­not fear or hope for the Torments and Joys of another State, should go up into the Garden of Pleasure, or down into the Vale of Lamen­tation; there is not the less, but the more rea­son why we, who can, should go the one way or the other. Thus you see the weight of your mighty Argument: and I shall look that you fulfil your Promise. But this is not all; for those mad Beasts you speak of, if they commit any offence they are subject to Man, and liable to be punish'd by him; and is it reasonable, think you, that Man, (who is of a more understanding nature) should not be under the Cognizance and Judicature of a superiour Being? You asked me to answer you one Objection; but now that is gone, I long (dear Boy) to be dealing with another. [Page 231] You may remember that I have told you since we met upon this Road, that the Soul grows up and decays with the Body, is infirm in Infants, strong in Men, and after that de­creases in Age; has its Diseases as well as the Body, is disordered by Drunkenness, is raving with Phrensie, is num'd and stupified in a Le­thargy, and dead almost in a Swoon. I re­member you have, (said I) and in my mind it is an unanswerable Argument: I was think­ing to have put it to you at first, but it is as well now: Sure this will pose you, if any thing can. Confess you are baffled; for it cleerly proves that Souls are mortal, yea as much as Sickness can prove Bodies to be so. Stop a little (said the melancholy Libertine) I am afraid we shall find it otherwise. Methinks, notwithstanding you can triumph so, you might easily see thorough the frivolous weak­ness of this Objection. The Body may be compared to a Musical Instrument, and the Soul to an expert Musician: Now if the In­strument is out of tune, if the Strings be too weak as in Infancy, or rotted and decayed as in old Age; if they are loose, or strung false, or any of them broke; do you think the Musi­cian (though he strike never so skilfully) can make as good Harmony as if it were well­tuned, and the Strings in no fault? This is the reason also why those of an hot Brain are [Page 232] ingenious, and those of a cold are not; because the Soul cannot so briskly exert her self upon a frigid unactive Brain, as she can upon one that is well prepared, unclogged and unstopped. Those that are very cold are Naturals, because in them She is totally or almost hindered from acting: those that are very hot are Frantick, because She is disturbed in acting. This will answer all such kind of Objections, if you have twenty more of them. But pray, the next man that you see ride upon a foundred Horse, go to him, and perswade him that he himself is foundred, and not the Horse: or if the Horse is old, tell the Rider it is his own Age and not his Horses that makes him unable to go faster. When he had ended, I said to him, Who thought that you could dispute so well a­gainst your own Principles? Presently after which, I was more startled than ever I was in my life, to hear him say, Come, let us make hast to our Journeys end. For I verily thought he was about to turn back; but I found I was mistaken. I thought however, I might ven­ture along, as well as he. He said, he believed we should now get thither within a few days. Though we made as much hast as we could, we had not gone far before he fell down dead. This was in a drunken merry Fit, soon after he had shaken off his pensive and serious Thoughts. God bless me! how I shiver at the remem­brance [Page 233] of him? Here I leave him: hereafter I shall come to tell you where I met him again. This Accident chill'd my Spirits, and made me (for a while) go a softer pace, though I still continued on, thinking it too late to return home.

I no sooner began to mend a little my pace, when I was push'd forward by one, the begin­ning of the words of whose mouth I found to be Foolishness, and the latter end of his mouth to be wicked Madness, Eccles. 10. 13. While on this hand of me went a Whore wantoning, and on that hand a Pharisaical Guide more demurely stalking, and Theologizing with an uncouth Gravity; both (not unlike the twin-Off­spring of Agurs Horseleach, Prov. 30. 15.) continually crying, Give, give. The last had from the Serpent (that old Impostor) learnt this single Cunning, viz. to deceive the Woman; whom commonly he first sets upon and studies to pervert. He snared always the Woman, that he might catch the Man: Her if he could but seduce into his Way, the Husband he was cock-sure would follow after his seduced Wife, and the Children after their seduced Mother. This Reverend Impostor was tumultuously compast round by the Giddy Rabble, who cried up his Nonsence for Gospel, and those Doctrines in which was Death, (yea though in never so plain legible Characters, there was written on [Page 234] them the Curse, Thou shalt die the Death) for Soul-saving ones. Amongst these was a poor paltry Fellow, who had somewhat in him, I know not what it was, which he named Con­science, (for Conscience it was not) that could unhinge Governments, overthrow States, and tumble down Scepters and Crowns; that so all being turn'd topsie-turvy, the first last, and the last first, he might be advanc'd to the top. With him joyn'd such as were of Levelling Principles, and such as were any whit dis­contented, setting up the Standart of Reforma­tion.

A little further I met with a quaint Contro­vertist, (in the Rear of these RELIGIONS) who bandied all this about, and even raised Objections by his answering them: As also a slie Favorite, who had learnt (from him) how to make his Praises to be Accusations, and by putting off Doubts to bring Doubts into ones head. I had the company afterwards of a rich old Chuf, who having read that the Glod of the Land of Havilah was good, came this way to seek out Paradise.

Having travelled thus far, such was the ef­fect of the Air and of our Travel, that now every one became light-headed. Also the Ways which before did seem curiously laid with Tarras, and the rich sorts of Cement, now ap­peared to be paved with dead mens Sculls. [Page 235] And though we now began to view the blazes of the Fire, yet one would have perswaded us, that it was onely a glimpse of the Coelestial Light, and that we were not far from the bright Mansions of the East, from o [...] de­lightful Eden placed near the Sun-rising.

Some of us were willing to believe [...]; and some to believe that all things were made and govern'd by Chance: which Supposition being hard to maintain, others holding a fatal Neces­sity, said they did not go, but were carried. The Presumptuous thought he continued on as fast or faster than any of us, still cried, God was merciful, and he should at last arrive at Paradise. But the Desperate leaping into the Gulf of Flames, (which we now plainly saw) said it was impossible for him to do otherwise, or to avoid the same by running back.

No Tongue can express the Horrours and the Pangs that I already endur'd. Whereupon I stepped a little out of the Road to ease my Grief. But being unable to move far, I fell down, expecting there I should die. I could discern that they were Baboons and Monsters in the shape of Men, with whom I had all this while conversed: could see the Devils prepa­ring their Torments, and ready to fetch away my Soul. Then first opening a Book which I had hitherto kept, that was given me by my forgotten Friend Theosophus, I began to read; [Page 236] but Despair and dreadful Dismayedness of Mind closed up mine Eyes in an horrible affrighting Sleep.

CHAP. XIV.

I Remember to have somewhere read a very remarkable Story of a melancholy Pilgrim, in the first Ages of this Institution, who having seen HELL but in a Dream, said he would rather chuse to suffer a thousand Deaths, than see the same again, or for one half hour more, the short turn of a Glass, feel what he had felt. And such effects had this (saith the Historian) upon him, that of a debauched lewd Liver, he became the greatest Saint, the most resolute Professor of Christ; and immediately separa­ted from the World, putting on such Weeds as this poor well-meaning Tract would fain cloth its Pilgrim-Reader in. I do most heartily wish (O that Wishes were not vain! that what the brave Timotheus in the same case hath seen, may, as on him it did, so (which he prayed for all the days of his Pilgrimage with unut­terable Groans) on all those to whom the Rela­tion thereof ever cometh, work the like effect. [Page 237] O that hereby I could frighten the stupid out of his Lethargy of Sin, and rouse him up into a sense of his Condition! O that if such an one shall turn over these leaves, he would sit down and consider a while to what place he is travel­ling, ask himself whether he can dwell with Everlasting Burnings! That he would do so much, if not out of Religion, yet out of Pru­dence; lest he come to feel the same at long run, not in Vision, but Reality: greater too perhaps than this, and far beyond all Hyperboles of Pain.

My Sleep was such (said the noble and truly pious Convert) as I verily believed it to be Death; and a Devil (I thought) taking me up with his Claws, carried me toward the Burning Lake. Which, as I drew near, appea­red to me to be bounded with seven high Banks of solid and unconsumed Fire; and on a spatious sevenfold Gate of rocky and impene­trable Adamant, which open'd to us of its own accord, I read (with a sorrowful cast of mine Eyes) these words: TOPHET IS ORDAI­NED OF OLD; YEA FOR THE WICKED IT IS PREPARED; HE HATH MADE IT LARGE AND DEEP: THE PILE THEREOF IS MƲCH FIRE, AND MƲCH FƲEL; THE BREATH OF THE LORD LIKE A STREAM OF BRIMSTONE, DOTH ENKINDLE IT. Isai. c. 30. v. 33.

As soon as I was entred I heard a Voice, like the Voice of Thunder, and the Voice of many Waters, saying, KEEP THESE SOƲLS BOƲND IN CHAINS OF DARKNESS ƲNTIL THE GREAT AƲDIT OF THE LORD: and another, LET HOT BƲRNING COALS FALL ƲPON THEM, LET THEM BE CAST INTO THE FIRE, AND INTO THE PIT, THAT THEY NEVER RISE ƲP AGAIN. And looking back, I saw great Multitudes behind me, rushing in at the Gate, who were bound presently, and cast into the Lake.

A wild Wast methought it was of inextin­guishable Sulphur and Naphtha; whereon, as far as ever I could ken, lay rowling hopeless Peoples and Nations, that striving to blow it out, made it burn the more, and kept it burning. Whence intolerable Smoak, with gloomy Flakes of unlightsome flame were scattered upwards, and darkened round the wide Coast. There are perhaps some subtile Wits, who will say 'tis impossible for Flame not to be light: but let them subtilize as they please, before they know the nature of this Flame, they are not very competent Judges. It was, I remember, every where so black and dismal a Night, as plagu'd Egypt sure felt not: such a Night as could not be brooded even on the face of Chaos: an ob­scure, a smart, a boundless, and a never-ending. [Page 239] (I concluded) Night; palpable almost to the Touch. But how vain am I, that I strive to de­scribe it! For it was greater far than I can ex­press to you; nay, certainly than any one can dread, or Poetick Phant'sie imagine. Which yet was render'd more terrible (if any thing possibly could adde to such Terror) by flashes of Lightning breaking it, and horrid Shapes that continually passed through the thick sub­stantial Darkness. By those dreadful gleams of Light I could discern sooty deformed Ghosts every moment flying by me; and sundry black Fiend-like Spirits Thunder-struck, falling down into the Fiery Gulf.

Most hideous and astonishing was the Din of loud piercing Yells and Screams insupporta­ble to the Ear, stubborn Lamentations and Dog­like Howlings, Cracks of Thunder, Hisses of Serpents, Gnashing of Teeth, the Clicking of Chains and Rods, Crackling of Flames, the pro­fane Execrations and Cursings of the hateful Crew, their roaring Oaths and clamorous Jan­glings, and the universal Clatter and Bustle of these impatient Malefactors groaning under the Mass of their Woe: a most deplorable Jargon of all Tongues, and a Babel of misera­ble Plaints; besides all those Voices that the malicious Wits of Devils could invent, where­with to terrifie and startle their Prisoners.

No soft harmonious Musick was here, no [Page 240] pleasant Scenes, nor odorous aromatick Smells to entertain the effeminate Wretches. Could you fancy a Stink ten thousand times more ma­lignant than that of Brimstone, than the most fetid Exhalations of all sorts, and the strong Damps of Mephitis, Arsenical Vapours and Winds of Smoke: more intolerable than the Nuisance of a Draught or a Common Shore, than of the Devil of Pentsch in Silesia; than the Air of a Pest-house or a Lazaretto, the Na­stiness of a Dungeon, the Corruption of Waters that stagnate, the steams of poysonous Fens and Lakes over which Birds flying fall down dead, the deadliest Fumes, the rankest Scents of ill­scented Animals, pestilential Herbs and Drugs, all unwholsome or lethiferous Smells, the Putre­faction of wormy Flesh, and the Muck of rot­ting Carcasses; yet all would be much short of this damnable Stench here in Tophet, against which so many foolish living Wights perfume themselves.

Keeping therefore upon wing. I flew (me­thoughts) many thousand Leagues over fla­ming Mountains and Rivers, and Seas of sad Despair; while I could not avoid meeting a thousand thousand several Horrors on every side of me: Many a rich Glutton I saw row­ling in the streams of liquid Sulphurs, who wished they had Worlds to give for one drop of Water to cool their Tongues: Myriads of [Page 241] wicked Angels and wicked Souls I saw bathing themselves, and delighting to bathe others, in the Flames.—

They were both ready to sink to the ground, which made him here break off abruptly. But it is impossible (said he, as the Father was fainting) for me to recount the Torments and Terrors of this Gloomy Prospect: nor do I care to fill your ears too long (which I am a­fraid yet I have already done) with such ter­rifying Relations as these. A more particular Enumeration of what I saw, will serve for ano­ther Melancholy Discourse; as, whatsoever I dreamed concerning the Inhabitants of Sodom, Jezabel, Iscariot, Herod, Simon Magus, Nero, Mahomet, and their peculiar and appropriate Tortures, as likewise theirs with whom on the Road I came acquainted; concerning also the Book of Death, the Dungeon of Diseases, the Cataracts and Whirlwinds of Fire, the Consults of Lucifer and his Peers about the Subversion of the Anglican Church, the uneasie and rest­less Disports of the Devils, the Hellishness of Vice, whence every one was made his own Executioner to kill and torment himself, and how Tophet is not onely the Punishment of sin, but that sin naturally sets it on fire; and many other things which I dream'd of, that may de­serve in their place to be remembred.

Now as the Fiends (methoughts) were pre­paring [Page 242] to bind me, and as I was a dropping down apace, a glorious heavenly Youth cat­ched me. At which I awaked; when I found at my head my dear Monitor Eubulus, that at my first entrance into the Road, and several times afterward, warned me of this. He snat­ched me away hastily. So I followed him; but not without looking back: And were God so severe as to mark what is done amiss, I should even then (with Jude v. 7. Lot's Wife, leaving the Cities Plagu'd with the Vengeance of eternal Fire) have been made an everlasting Monument of this.

We opportunely met with an old man called Eusebius, who directed us to your Lodge. But as we were in sight of this tuft of Trees, I was torn away from my Eubulus, by my Com­panions that I had left in the Broad Road; who as soon as they discover'd my Flight, came thus far in pursuit after me. These were they who then putting on the Visors of Religion, left me in that woful Plight, in which you, my dearest Father, found me. Next after God, to you I owe this Breath: I owe to you my Self, my Life, or if any thing can be dearer to me than my Self or my Life.

He had scarce made an end, before Ortho­doxus came to enquire after Eubulus. To him, after a short stay, Theosophus committed his young Pilgrim; himself tarrying behind [Page 243] for others that were to come after. From whom young Timotheus having first received some Directions (which for that they were al­most the same that another worthy Guide has given his Philotheus, I omit) and charged not to depart from Orthodoxus, they both went in quest of their Friends and their eternal Hap­piness, the Paradise of Blessed Souls. I shall leave them travelling thither, until I can get leisure to put the next Part of the History into order.