At this funerall, I say, I with our little William was chiefe mourner. And who, then I, had better right? For if in mourning we weigh the losse of friendship, my parents degree of inequality, my sisters sex; my bro­thers tender age kept them at a greater distance from the deceased. But I joyn'd unto him in an equall familiari­ty of kindred, how little wanted I of being a twin with him! The same studies too gave occasion of mutuall of­fices. And hee might even in this respect bee no lesse deare unto me, then in that he was a brother. I say thus least, when I comfort you, you may think, a sound man gives counsell to a sick. You have one a partner with you in sorrow; yea who contends in mourning, and ye [...] is bold not only to comfort himselfe, but to communi­cate unto others the experiment of that, which hee hath found to be good against his own griefe. First therefore let me see, whether I ought not to fear, least I may rub wound too fresh, and as yet not clos'd up with a scarre whilest I run to apply over-hasty remedies. I suppose not. For I speake both unto a man, and a father, whom the very custome of our Country forbids to prolong hi [...] mourning beyond the buriall. Surely parents have no [...] so great cause, as the common people thinke, to grieve as not to grieve; and even in this, that they have begot­ten [Page] Children, finde comfort. It was much, but it came from nature, of him, who said: I knew I had be­got a mortall. Wee deceive our selves, if wee doe not daily thinke, that they shall not alwaies be▪ who with­out us had never been. See how great the perversness of mans disposition is. To lacke children is not grie­vous, but to those who have had them. And yet Ba­chelors are no lesse childlesse then others; but they mourne not. Why then should wee not lose without teares what without teares wee could have wanted? Many are the pleas for vice; and not only covetousness, and ambition, and luxury come under this name, but also excessive and unreasonable griefe: I could have wish'd he had surviv'd me according to the course of Nature; I grieve that having had proofe of his piety, I might no longer use and enjoy it: I have lost him, whose helpe might have bin both to the service of his Countrey, and comfort of my selfe. These are the words of them that favour their own misery, this is wit­ty calamity.

You have lost a good sonne: It is better then to have had an ill. You have lost your paines in his education: I may object unto you a recompence of joy, which you tooke in his towardnesse. But this also is now gone, and it troubles you. If you be wise, account it gaine [Page] that you have had it, rather then dammage that you have lost it. You are sure of the fruit of a past good: this can neither be taken away, nor cease at any time; and is onely beyond the envy of fate. It is not the part of the same man, to grieve that it hath not befalne him long, yet not to rejoyce, that it hath happen'd at all. See there­fore, how much happier you are then those who never had a sonne▪ and yet they mourne not. But if wee ac­count children goods, and certainely they are the chie­fest, it is better not to have had them long, then never. For, even when they are taken from us, the remem­brance of them remaines still; a great delight to a gratefull minde. You see then, parents have very little cause to grieve, if wee weigh griefe not according to the vulgar opinion, but right reason: Besides, that the majesty of a parents authority, and that sacred do­minion of nature unbecommingly stoopes so low, as to bewaile him dead, of whose life your selfe were the author; and to submit your passions to him, whose pas­sions you are commanded to rule over. Have a care, you do nothing misbeseeming the high dignity of a pa­rents name, in which God and Nature have plac'd you; and yet upon her wee list to lay the fault of our impati­ency: neither is any defence so ready, even of woma­nish lamentation, as that it proceeds from Nature. But we are guilty of manifest calumny, in imputing our crime to her. We all give way to griefe, yea most of us enforce it; so pleasing it is, then which yet nothing is more unpleasing. No man is more miserable then hee thinks himself; and griefe no lesse, then other things, is upheld by opinion. We deserve therefore to be oppress'd with griefe, if we will not suppresse it.

Among those reasons which disswade from lamenting for the dead, this is even a chiefe, that wee must for­beare a griefe which is in vaine, which may adde us to them, cannot bring back them to us. Let that sorrow cease, which if it cease not, nothing availes. Wee shall sooner want teares then matter for teares, which this Universe continually suggests: and whereas therefore nothing ought to be more precious, nor are they rashly to be shed, of which there is so much use: on the con­trary, we are of nothing so prodigall; and indeed, when wee have least cause. Many are the evills which surprize a man unawares. But, then the death of him and his, nothing is more certain. We must not weep for that done, which, that it would come to passe, we were not ignorant of. What do the so frequent sounds of passing bels signifie, but that no body is Natures favou­rite? Others mischances daily admonish us, that they are common: and yet when so many funeralls passe be­fore our eyes, when we follow so many to buriall, we dare begin hopes of long life; as if priviledg'd from that aeternall law, and not plac'd in the same slippery condi­tion with the whole world. And hence it is, that these stroakes more hurt us, because they are lesse fore­seen. Why cease we not then to complaine of the ini­quity of sate, who know well enough that some are dai­ly stricken, but that all are aim'd at? If, as wee ought, we did often think on what we alwaies see, the force of present evils would be abated, whilest wee consider fu­ture. What marvaile is it that he is dead, whom so ma­ny have gone before, and all shall follow? I could here [Page] bring in many examples of them, and indeed of great personages, who have lost their Children: but in this empire of fortune it would bee a much harder taske to find out a House or Family not remarkable for some af­fliction, or that hath stood entire and unshaken to the end. I find also that the Ancients have used this kind of consolation; that wee go the way of all the world, and of the Nature of things: That nothing is aeternall. That all things are born on this condition, that whatso­ever had a beginning, must have an ending: and that one family cannot without impotent arrogancy thinke to escape from that ruine which the whole world ex­pects. That whatsoever we call miracles, even most famous Cities which yet are longer liv'd then men, have perished. This indeed is something, not to bee wil­ling to challenge privately to himselfe a griefe, whose cause is publique; and to submit his sorrow to common mortality: but we have far greater comforts given us in the Souls immortality, which we attaine by an assured faith. He is not taken away from us, but taken againe by God, whom he had granted us during his owne plea­sure, and did but lend him. Your son had one, whose he was more then yours. God gave you him to bring up, not a free-hold in him. Restore what was committed to your trust: you know how the bargaine was: there was a condition, that, when it seem'd good unto him, you should surrender him: nor were you to have the use of him, untill you were satisfied, but during his di­vine determination. A good Housholder hath that mo­ney alwaies ready, for the payment of which no certain day was set. What debtor is so ingratefull as to raile on his creditor, and take it ill he may have no longer use of what was lent upon courtesie, and on no other con­dition [Page] then that it should at length returne, whence it came? Which I say also, least your griefe find this star­ting hole, that he is not at a more mature age demanded of you. He requires him not too soon, who might have not given him at all: and if we look upon him you mourn for, it skils not how long he liv'd, but how well. Now of that matter we are witnesses. Hee must needs have liv'd well, who dies so. He must needs die well, who liv'd so. We all count others yeares, whereas we should take thankfully what are given us, and not looke upon those, which appertaine not to us. Hee might have liv'd longer. No, he could not. This was his old age. Onely so many yeeres he had: More hee receiv'd not: Why complaine wee? It is our fault, who are never content with time past, and reckon but upon the present, that is, a moment. It is all one at this day, to have liv'd your yeeres about fifty and his of eighteen. If we regard the swiftnesse of time, no man lives long, if the misery, none but lives too long. That this life is a pil­grimage, even the Philosophers have taught; Let us gratulate him, who hath been shew'd a shorter way to his journies end.

Who knowes from what evill that provident Parent hath withdrawne your sonne? How quite contrary to the hopes, which they had rais'd, hath the disposition of many been perverted! how many vices are abroad at this day, what corruptions! Although God forbid I should make this augury of him, yet we may bee glad, that he is not onely past danger, but beyond fear. Hee had his, almost daily, tormentor, the Collicke; which not content alwaies to torture, would at length have kil'd him. If he had gone with the army, what hazards had he been liable to! A wise saying was that of Syrus: What may happen to one man, may happen to eve­ry one. Imagine before your eyes maym'd men and bu­ried already in a part of them; the butchery of Chirur­gions, who picke the bones of the living: all which who would not abhor worse then death? But let us suppose the least. Yet he had dyed far from the sight of his most deare mother. We should neither have heard [Page] of his sicknesse, nor of his death: wee could not have prepar'd our hearts for the losse: nor have bin a helpe or a comfort to him. We should have doubted still, with what minde he took his death, which I suppose to bee a chiefe matter. These are the evills, which our first thoughts suggest to us: But we are sottishly ignorant, if not yet taught even by our own example, how many, and much more grievous those evils be, which come up­on us so much as dreaming on them. Many, Father, many discommodities is he delivered from by a timely death; and if from no other, certainly from old age. See this also, how many comforts his very death may afford you: He died in a slippery age; and not of a sudden, but slow disease, so, that for a long while hee might perceive himselfe to die: Which you perhaps may think a part of his misery, I, of his felicity: Especially whereas the pain was not extreme. For so it comes to passe, that not only the body it selfe is tam'd, but also by how much it decayes, so much the soul improves; there follows a loathing of life, and a desire of eternall happi­nesse. Would to God you indeed had seen him, and heard, with how great a fortitude he did challenge death. The despairing of that health, which we wish'd him, made him to be assur'd of a better. I will say more: God hath call'd him to himselfe not without a miracle. Hee was taken with a frenzy, and the contagion of his sick bodie had also infected his minde. Yet as often as hee was ad­monish'd of death, salvation, God, as if this only con­cern'd him, hee so answer'd, as that in every word hee shew'd a good understanding. But of the things of this present life he was nothing at all sensible. O unhappy we if good health had in this case surpriz'd him! Yet once there did appeare I know not what hope thereof; [Page] which, as you confesse, doth the more trouble you. Surely God made made an experiment in him, whether so indeed he would still be out of love with life. But the pious youth submitted himselfe wholy to his will, being prepar'd on either side. How great a benefit is it, that God hath called us to be witnesse the [...]eof! that we saw him blaming the delay of death, and with an unconque­red breast proclaming as it were this very Verse: ‘I've liv'd, and run the race, which God me gave.’

But death it selfe, you will say, is grievous; and that of the Antients not altogether true: That it is naturall, and therefore not painefull. First, whatsoever it is, it is now past. Hee seeks for sorrow where it is not, who grieves that his have bin miserable: Nothing is more a­greeable unto Nature, then to rejoyce at the end of evill. But what? What if to die be indeed no evill? And this hath been believ'd even by the Philosophers. We Chri­stians go further, and dare with Paul to say: I desire to be dissolved and to be with Christ. This is the onely gate to e­ternall life: This is that, over which He the first fruits of the dead hath triumphed; we therefore hear the Apostle to contemn his sting. For our healths sake wee take poy­son in potions, and what soever else is loathsome to na­ture: what should we not undergo to enjoy a perpetuall and unchangeable health? Valiantly then, valiantly let us endure, both death and the losse of our friends! Chri­stians have no colour for mourning, unlesse that wee mourne for our selves, who have lost, yea rather who have but sent them before us. And how foule and mis­becomming is this very sorrow! Who is he, that is so much a selfe-seeker, and so envious of his friends happi­nesse, [Page] as to call back them, who are blessed, to take part with him in misery? If you would do any thing for your sons sake, if there be any respect to bee had to his ghost, do what you think hee would have you doe, if hee hath any care at all of humane affaires. Surely hee would take it ill, you should bee afflicted for his sake, who being plac'd above the mockeries of fortune, looks down from aloft on the businesse of mortals.

And thus much indeed I have said in generall, There are also very many other reasons you may suggest unto your selfe in private. See Sulpitius writing to Tully: ‘Thinke in what manner hitherto fortune hath dealt with us: that those things are taken away from us, which ought unto men to be no less dear then children.’ Adde but this one evil, and how can griefe bee raised higher? or what mind exercis'd in these calamities ought not to grow insensible, and to esteem more lightly of all things?