Homo ab hu­mo. MAN, remember thou art Man, never forget thy name, if thou wilt not forget thy safety: Thou art called Earth, thou art made but of Earth,Man is a thing of nothing, onely in appearance son. what. but the Earth subsists, and thou vanishest; but the earth remaines firm, and thy dust flyes away. Study thy miseries, meditate thy disasters: thou art nothing in effect, but if thou be any thing imaginable, I [Page 2]dare not so much as compare thee unto a dreame, because the frailty of thy nature hath something both more feeble, and lesse constant▪ an Apparition hath above thee the simplicity of the Elements whereof it is composed, a shadow im­plies yet the advantage of the Noble­nesse of its beginning, since the light produceth it. Nay lastly, a very straw, o [...] an Atome, dispute against thee also with reason, for the purity of substance, since they are corruptible, without infection but thy heape of filth gives horrour to thy owne thoughts;One cannot give he description of Man, but by mi­sery, nor of misery but by Man. insomuch that I an [...] constrained to match thee to thy selfe for to suggest thee the truth of thy slight­nesse?

What a goodly Schoole is the world and our condition a faire booke: and all the sad accidents, to which Natur [...] subjects it, as so many gracious Les­sons?

May not a man iustly say that the earth is a Colledge, wherein the diversity o [...] Times and Ages, signe out the diversit of Classes, in which wee may equall make the course both of our studies an [...] dayes, under the sway of those miseries [Page 3]which accompany us without cease:Mishaps and paines, are the fruits of the gar­den of our life. the poorenesse of our way of birth, may stead us as a rudiment in the first Classe: the cryes and teares of the cradle, are our Grammar, the creeping weakenesse, and pittifull infirmities of Boy-age like soe much Rhetoricke, and now can there be a more subtile Philosophy, then that of [...]he consideration of the calamities which are destined to youth? Is it not [...]asie to become a great Naturallist by ver­tue of meditating the fruitfulnesse of our nature in the production both of ils, and paines which continually afflict us? and what better Metaphysicks,He which goes out Doctor in the knowledge of him­selfe, is ignorant of nothing. then contem­plations of our Beeing, ever rowling to [...]ts ruine? Let us draw then the conclu­sion of this Argument, and joyne with as much reason as interest to these two Vo­ [...]umes so renowned, the Bible, and the [...]ace of Heaven, where al sorts of Scien­ [...]es are in their source.Death and im­mortality are only separated, bu [...] with the length of an instant. This also of our [...]ortall and decaying nature, since it in­tructs us the Art to pry our selves in our Corruptions, that wee may recover our [...]elves in immortality.

When I consider that the Earth was [...]eated of nothing,Man of nothing. and Man made of [Page 4]this nothing, and the greatnesses which environs him, are nothing at all, and all the pleasures which hee idolatrizeth are also of the same stuffe:The world subsists not, but upon the foundation of its continual revolu­tion. I remain [...] all confused with astonishment, nor e [...] ­ver able to conceive the subject of his vanity, nor the reason of his arrogance poore corrupted Vapour with advan­cing it selfe,A vapour. Man elevating himselfe too high measures the depth of the A­bysses of his Precipice. is soon transformed into a Cloud, to conceale its noysomnesse but yet by way of this elevation, i [...] resolved into Lightnings and Thunder and afterward retumbles into the ditche [...] from whence first it had its beginning. A Puffe of wind which tumbles in its own [...] violence,A B last. angry perhaps that it cannot subsist, but in flying, and that the action of its continuall flight, is the beginning of its ruine.Smoake. A smoake, which with [...] vaine assault will needes scale the Hea­vens, and yet hardly can one well di­stinguish the intervall betweene its firs [...] beeing and extinction:Worme. Wee are all already, but rot­tennesse, fince already wormes begin to devour us. A stream [...]. a poore glistering Worme which dazles none but purblin [...] spirits, and gives light to those wormes which devoure it in private, a streame al­wayes murmuring, alwayes trilling away And now why shall all these goodly nu [...] ­litie [Page 5]and all these pleasant Chimeraes in­sinuate to us the vanity which they are of? shall these cozening appearances bestablish'd here below with Soveraign­ty? bee it then onely in desire, or in dreame,Every thing cor­rupts, the very eye which now reads these truths shall not be ex­empt. for with what gilded rine so ere they bee out-sided, Corruption is their Forme, and Dust their Mat­ter.

I am astonished that Man should be capable to mistake himselfe, even to the point of forgetting what hee was, then, when hee yet was not: what he is now, whilst he enjoyes the beauty of the day, and what hee must one day bee at the Sun-set of his life: Assu­redly yes, I am astonisht at it,Nature exhibites us so many Mir­rours of Jncon­stancy, as she hath produced objects. since all created things may serve him for a Mirrour to contemplate there­in, apparantly the verity of his mise­ries.

The Heavens, though whirling about with a Motion, alwayes equall in the same spaces of their carreere,Since that Na­ture it selfe is mortall, this se­cond cause cea­sing, the ruine of these effects is infallible. doe not cease to wax old, & even their age repre­sents to us naturally our decay. Though the Starres shine with a sparkeling Iu­ster, as cleare as at the first Day of [Page 6]their creation, yet as they are attached within those circles of Ages, whose con­tinual motion is limited, they approach by little and little to their last West, where their light must be extinct, and the pace of their course shewes us the way of our life, since time conducts us all together, though diversly to our end. The Fire so greedy, that it devours it selfe, when finding no more fuell to nourish it, is it not a Mirrour of the Lampe of our life, whose kindled weeke goes out, when the Oyle of the Radi­call moysture failes it? The Aire, which corrupts continually, is it not an Image of our corruption? and without doubt the Waters transparent body, repre­sents us the fragility of ours, and its li­quid crystalline, alwayes rolling away makes us see in its gliding,Every thing flees away from us, and in running after them wee runne to Death our flitting nature. The earth could not have figu­red us better then shee doth, since wee are to day of the same matter, and to morrow of the like forme. What fai­rer Mirrour then that of Flowers, where we may see in one day the whole course of our life, for at Sun-rise the buds resemble our Infancy, at noone the same [Page 7]now full blowne, our youth,The world is a Nose-gay of flowers, which by lit­tle and little wither all together. and at Dayes-end, themselves now quite wi­thered, our last age. I will not speake of all the other Species of creatures ani­mate, how every one in its selfe, though living, is an Image of death. It suffi­ceth me to cherish this remembrance, and leave to you thereof the medita­tion.

What shall I tell yee of Fortune, of honours, riches,Fortune hath no­thing more her owne, then her Inconstancy. and all these glorious qualities of valour, Beauty and a thou­sand other besides, which vanish away with us? This blind Goddesse hath a Mirrour under her feet, whose round figure shewes us at once, both her insta­bility, and our inconstancy, as for greatnesse and riches, the ashes of those which have possest them, are as so ma­ny fresh Crystalls of a Mirrour, which flatters not, wherein we may see the va­nity both of their enjoyment, and of their possessors. Those other qualities of faire and valiant, are of the same na­ture, as those sensitive and vegetable soules,There is nothing immortall in ma [...] but vertue. which dye together with the subject which they animate, without leaving ordinarily so much as one smal [Page 8]memoriall, for marke that they have had a beeing otherwise: and in sequell to these truths, can you find a truer Mirrour, Man is the Mir­rour of Man, so that by due con­templation of one part, he may save the whole. then this of our selves, since every part, (nay what say I?) every a­ction, and every sigh is an animate pourtrait of Death; Insomuch that wee draw the breath of so many con­tinuate Gaspes, without ability of dispose of one onely instant, to give internall to this exercise.

How is it then possible that Man should mis-know himselfe, having such faithful Mirrours before his eyes, where at all times hee may see apparantly the Truth of his Nature kneaded in Cor­ruption, formed by it, and destroyed also by the same; Strange thing! he can see nothing in the World,All the obiects of the world bid us Adten, while we but regard 'em since they are al­wayes fleeing away. but Images of inconstancy, and yet will not apprehend his owne change: what­soever shall smite upon his eare, will resound nothing but the bruit of his flight, and yet he will not thinke upon his retreat.

Lastly his other Sences, and his fancy, shall have no other object but this of the continuall vicissitude of [Page 9]all things, and yet hee will remaine firme and stable in his vanity,To muse alwayes of Death, i [...] the way of Immor­tality. till death ruine its foundation. Thus in the de­ceitfull opinion, wherein hee is, of pos­sessing all things, hee looseth the pos­session of himselfe, and having too much dreamed on his pleasures, his Life is past as a Dreame without re­turne. I must tell you one of my me­ditations.

I shall never be able to comprehend the meaning of those, who moane themselves against Fortune,A man may well complaine against Fortune, these vaine regreetes, exempt him not from the paine. the World and all the pleasures of this life. One forsooth will upbraid to this foolish Deity, her deceipts, without consi­dering that he deceived himselfe in gi­ving Trust to a Goddesse, that nere had any. Hee yet will accuse her to have conducted him still through craggy wayes, and over-spread with thornes, as if in following one that is blind, a man should not hazard to run this danger.

Another will make yet fresh com­plaints against the Worlds detesting it's Sweetes,The world may well bee the in­strument of our destruction, not the cause. cursing it's charmes and calling it a Thousand times deceipt­full. [Page 10]but why? one would say to hear these plaints, that the world began but now to receive its birth, I meane were but now newly created, that no man knowes it yet, and that its first couze­nages began, but now to be discovered? What folly! is not this to cheat ones selfe, to have commerce with a cheater? the world never yet bore any other name or title, why then ayme we to nou­rish our selves with its delights, whose after-bitternesse empoysons sensibly our soules? But if its charmes be pow­erfull enough to tempt reason,The number of those whom the world hath decei­ved, is so great, that they that still trust it, are now no more excusa­ble. they are yet too feeble to vanquish it, provided that the will consent not so, that a man remaine convict of all the crimes, whereof he may be accused.

What seeming ground then have we to be enraged against those pleasures which we have received;The will is so free that it cannot suf­fer violence, but from it selfe. if our selves on­ly give them both being and forme? the Fancies conceive these delights, and the will gives them birth, they are the workes whereof our imaginations form the Species, and our desires make the Metamorphosis, changing them into objects palpable, and sensible, which [Page 11]are markes of the seale of our depra­vednesse.

Let a man then abhorre pleasures in­stead of accusing them,Pleasures are the greatest enemies of life, for in casting flowers upon our heads, they fill our hearts with thrones. detest their va­nity in lieu of complaining of their de­deitfulnesse. But if they be criminall, they onely beare the staine of their Fa­thers, and if they be complices of our destruction, tis we give them Birth, to give us death.

Let men cease to lament of Fortune, since the Mirror of its flying scarfe,Fortune is stil her selfe, he which trusts her, takes delight to bee cheated. and wings expresse to the life its lightnesse, and our folly.

Let none Argue any more that the world is cause of our ruine, since we can­not chuse but tread every houre over the dust and ashes of those, who have too late repented to have followed it. As for voluptuousnesse, tis a vaine Idea, to which our passions give a body, to make it serve as a sensible object of their brutality, insomuch that it can do nothing, but by our first motions, ta­king its vigour from our force, and its power from our Soveraigntie, and this renders us doubly culpable, palleating our faults, instead of acknowledging [Page 12]them,Pleasure still takes its force from our volun­tary weakenesse. since laments, rather than excu­ses, might absolve us them.

Is it not that St. Iohn Chrysostome toucht with compassion of our miseries cries out in astonishment of our weake­nesse: 'Oh World how many hast thou de­ceived! 'Tis more then folly, when the folly of others, serves us not for example, but this is its trade and professi­on. O Fortune how many hast thou made to fall! but even yet still, while I am spea­king, shee gives employment to her treason, and exercise to her Tyrannie. O Pleasures comfitted in Sweetes, and steeped in bitternesse, how many have yee poysoned! but yet their venome is so common, that the whole earth is infected with it. What remedy then to all these ils? No other then this, to pry into ones selfe, in the MIRROVR of his owne Ashes,Wee can no bet­ter contemplate any thing, then in the Mirrour of our Nothing. a MIRROVR alwayes hanging at the Girdle, and which flatters not. A MIRROVR whose glasse, though more brittle, then one of Crystall, makes us yet to see that all the objects of the World are false, but that of our Cor­ruption, a Mirrour, which represents us more lively in our pourtraict, then in our selves, A Mirrour whose kind of shadow and Chimera makes us see in [Page 13]effect that which we are in appearance.

A Mirrour all miraculous, which preserves certaine Species's of nothing to render them sensible to our know­ledge. A Mirrour all divine, which me­tamorphosing our bodies into shadows, yet expresses us so naturally, that the most arrogant cannot mistake them­selves. A Mirrour lastly, which Nature hath charmed with it's owne proper spels,All the Mirrours of the World flat­ter, except this of our miseries. to the end, that vewing himselfe herein, a Man may be able to resist the charmes of the World's allurements.

I am greatly astonisht at those that preach us the Knowledge of our selves, to be so troublesome, and difficult, since that at all times, and in all places, of all sides and all sorts of fashions, wee are Nothing at all, or if by an excesse of flattery and vanity,If a man would still study himselfe he would become the wisest of the World. I borrow some names to expresse truely what wee are, it can bee no other then those of durt and mire, whose noysomnesse takes a­way all doubt on it, from the most incredulous.

In what then consists this trouble of studying to know one's-selfe, since the most ignorant may in this, goe [Page 14]out Doctors in the schoole of our mi­series:Selfe-knowledge onely diffi [...]ile to the proud. where lies the difficulty to ar­rive to this knowledge? when the very wind of our sighes carries away, every moment, some of that polluted dust, whereof wee bee made. Where is this paine, say I yet, since our senses and spi­rits can have no other object, then this of Inconstancy, as unseparable to their nature, as it is proper to our condi­tion. And what can bee this difficul­ty, when we are capable of no action more, then to destroy our selves? We must breake this rinde farther.

Humility is a skil­full Schoolema­ster, to teach us to know our selvsI will beleeve that every one knowes from whence he comes and whither he goes, that his body is but a worke of rotten­nesse, and that the wormes attend ther­of the prey, as a nourishment which to them is destinated: but it is important to consider that these truths, though sensible, are oftenest put in oblivion, and this default of memory denotes that of knowledge. He which museth upon his slightnesse, undervalueth (ex­cept God) all things,A man knowes no more then hee remembers. and vanity would never be able to surprise us, during the interim of this meditation. Man knows [Page 15]very well that he is Mortall,The remembrance of Death makes us forget the va­nities of Life. but whilst he never thinkes seriously of the neces­sity of dying, this knowledge is for­got, though he dye without cease, and in loosing the remembrance of his con­dition, looses the knowledge therof.

The way to passe our dayes conten­tedly, is to think every houre of the last. Remember that you are a Man said his page every morning to Philip of Mace­don. This great Monarch made him­selfe to be rouzed every day from sleep, with the Newes of Death, fearing to be charmed with the sweetes of Life. Great­nesses environ him on all parts, to make him forget his humility, but under­stand you not the delicate Aire, which he causes to be sung to the tune of his miseries:The remem­brance of the poorenesse of Death, is a po­tent charme to resist the memory of greatnesse of Birth. the pompe and Magnificance of his riches dazle his eyes with their lustre, that he might never consider the wretchednesse which is proper to him. But you see how he makes himselfe to be awaked with the noyse of this truth, ever to cherish its remembrance: Sir remember that you are a Man; oh how many Mysteries are comprised in these wordes! behold the Allegory on't.

Great Kings remember you are sub­ject to many more Miseries, then you [Page 16]have subjects in your Empire.If we be different in manner of life, we are all'equall in necessity of dy­ing. Great Monarchs remember that of all the great extention of your Territories there shall not remaine you one onely foot; So jealous are the wormes of your glory. Great Princes remember that your Scep­ters and your Crownes, are such feeble markes of greatnesse, that fortune sports with them, Time mocks at them, and the Wind shal sweep away their Dust: Soveraigne Judges of the Life of Men, remember that although you are above the Lawes, this of Dying is inviola­ble.

The Fable is pretty, of the resoluti­on, which the flowers and plants took to elect a King and Queene,Cares and an [...]i­eties surpasse in number the plea­sure of, Kings. and as the number of Voyces gave the election, the Marigold was declared to bee the King of the Flowers, and the Bryar Queene of Plants, and under this toy lies hid serious verities.

Is there any thing fairer in all the borders of the Garden of Nature, then the flower of the Marigold? Its gol­den Tincture of the colour of the Sun, at first view dazeleth so delightfully; that the Eye amazedly gazing with [Page 17]admitation of its fresh-displayed beauty, can hardly retire its regards from an object so agreeable. But ga­ther it, and dight it on you, and its sentproduces a thousand disliks in the Mind, for that one onely, which you hold in your hand, for hence of a sud­daine the humours become dull, and melancholy having beene annoyed with so faire a fulsomnesse.

Royalty is absolutely the same: The Scepters are as fresh flowers of Marigold, If Crownes and Scepters were to be sould, wise men would never buy them. whose lustre and beauty equally ravishing, attract at first glance to their admiration the Soule by the eyes; but if a Man take them into his graspe, or deck his head with [...]hem, hee shall find himselfe fill'd with anxious cares by this cover­ [...]ure. If you doubt of this, aske Seleu­ [...]us, hee will answere, That the first [...]oment of his Raigne, was the last of [...]is Quietnesse.

The Sweet-bryar also bore away [...]he Royaltie; for who would not love [...] with its Rose? O how both toge­ [...]her have powerfull attractives, to [...]mpt equally, both the heart to de­sire [Page 18]them, and the hand to plucke them? And 'tis in vaine that Nature hath given armes to the jealousie of its prickles,Thornes are the Roses of Kings gardens. to serve for the defence of its flowers; since these sharpes are as so many baits, which irritate us rather with Desire then Feare. All the world insert it in their nose-gayes; but the prickles remaine, the Rose wi­thers.

Say we then also, that Royalty is a faire Sweet-bryar, accompanyed with its Roses; I meane many con­tentments of the same nature. Both together have great charmes to affect us both with love and desire, but the Bryars of the Crowne remaine,Great miseries are destinated to great fortunes. the Rose of delights withers. O how pon­derous is the loade of this greatnesse▪ And if you beleeve not me, enquir [...] hereof of the puissant King Mithrida­tes, The felicity of Kings hath much more lustre, then Reality. hee will often reiterate to you That he never sigh'd, but for the ponderou [...] burden of his Crownes.

SIR, REMEMBER YOV AR [...] A MAN.

But what is there here to pride in [...] May it be of the greatnes of his D [...] ­minions? [Page 19]This is but an alien good, which admits not to be possest but by vanity,Kings may trouble themselves to conquer the earth, it still triumphs over them. since its honours and plea­sures have nothing else more in pro­priety. To be an amply landed-man, is to have miry soyle to sell, and small profit to make thence.

Sir remember you are a Man. What may be his ambition? may it be to conquer the whole world, what will he doe with it after conquest, since it is a Ball of snow, which Time melts by little and little, tumbling it with­out cessation.

Sir remember you are a Man. What might be his designes? Should hee pretend to Altars, and Temples, what oblations can be made to a Victime,He which makes himselfe to be adored, is rather fi. to be Deaths Vi­ctime then to be idolatrized. [...]hom Death holds conrinually at a [...]ay? can Incense be offered to a [...]ung hill, or an Idoll made of a Sink? [...]e very thought shockes common [...]nse.

Sir, remember that you are a Man. What can hee doe with his absolute [...]ower?Man is so miserable, that I am amiz'd [...]ee p [...]ti [...]s not himselfe. A little stone makes him [...]umble; a straw can blind him; a [...]adow, an Atome, a thing of nothing [Page 20]are capable to reduce him to nothing at all. And is not this an object of pi­ty, rather then of envy? Great Kings, these are truths too important for you, to loose their remembrance.

Well may you out-brave the hea­vens with a bristling eye-brow; the onely imagination of its Thunder­claps, holds you already in alarme. Boldly may you tread vpon the Earth with a disdainefull foot; the Same whereof you are made, shall shortly be so troden, when the wormes are glutted with it.I have said to corruption, Thou art my father, and to the worme, thou art my mo­ther and mysister. Iob. 17.14. Remember that you art Men, and that all the objects of ri­ches and honours which environ you, are of the same Nature as you are. You are dying every moment and every thing falls away withou [...] cease.

When I represent to mind you heads,The head that weares the crowne, weares away with it. diadem'd with a rich Crowne I conceive it a little point infirm' [...] and closed in a circumference, whos [...] lines abut at the center of corrupt [...] on, lines of magnificence, which te [...] ­minate at the point of wretched­nesse.

[Page 21] If I consider you with Scepter in hand,Scepters and the hands which hold them, are equal­ly perishable. me thinks I see a simple shrub, planted upon worser earth, the shrub dries up, and is reduced to dust, the ground remaines that it was before.

Let me contemplate you seated upon your Thrones, deckt with your richest ornaments, my imagination shewes me a Iupiter in picture, hol­ding the Thunder in his hand; for you are so weake for all your absolute power, that if you presume hardily to raise your head,A strange thing that the clarity should blind us, though it be the principall of the view. but to looke upon the Sunne, your eyes will water at the same time, to expiate with your teares, the crime of your arrogance.

Great Kings, Remember then, that you are not Great, but in miseries. Soveraigne Monarchs, Remember, that your Empiredome is but a servitude, since you are subject to all the disa­sters of your subjects. Powerfull Princes, one gust of wind defies to the struggle your absolute power. Sa­cred Majesties, All the attributes of worldly glory accompany us but to the grave. I salute you to day by this name: but to morrow I will change termes, and call you Skelitons and carkasses, to the end that in spea­king [Page 22]this truth, all the world may know you, I will change my tone.

How ingenious are the Poets in their fancies? They recount us, how that Inconstancy being banisht from heaven, descended upon earth, with designe to have her picture drawne, and upon the refuse, that Painters made of it, shee addrest herselfe to Time,Man serves for sha [...]le-cocke to all things, since all things concurre to his ruine. who after he had considered her in all her diversities, made use at last of the visage of Man for the fini­shing cloth, wherein having represen­ted her to the life, all the world tooke her for Man himselfe, since in effect 'tis but one and the same thing. O faire truth discovered by a fable.

Man is Incon­sla [...]vit selfe, [...]a­ther then us pour [...]ct.He then that now would see the I­mage of Inconstancy, let him consider the Lise-touches and lineaments of it, upon his owne visage. Our fore-head which wrinkles every moment, is it not the very same as hers? Our Eyes, which by continuall use every houre, doe already require spectacles, are they not as hers? Our cheekes which now chap-fall are in nothing diffe­rent from hers. In fine our visages [Page 23]are the onely MIRROVRS WHICH FLATTER NOT.

But what shall we answer notwith­standing to the objection of this truth, that, that which we see of MAN, Though a Man hides himselfe under the vayle of hypocrisie, his defects alwayes breake through. is not the MAN. If his visage like a false Horologe index false, this our pour­traict of Inconstancy is meerely ima­ginary:

But is there any thing more incon­stant then the spirit of Man? 'tis a weather-cocke for all winds, behold againe the first draughts of the visage of Inconstancy; must wee not of ne­cessity compare his changing humour to hers,The spirit of Man is much more changing, then his body, for this changes onely in growing old, but that growes o [...]d onely in changing. if a man would exhibit there­of but one example; and these are yet new lineaments, which represent us this levity. In fine, his thoughts, his desires, and all the passions of his mind, are but objects of vicissitude, capable of all sorts of impressions: so that in the perfection of the portrai­cture of Man, Inconstancy is found perfectly depainted. Let us pro­ceed.

The fictions of Poets are yet serious enough, to serve us often for suffici­ent [Page 24]entertaine of the time.Vertue onely can render us invul­nerable. A vertuous Man feares nothing. 'Tis they which tell us of one Achilles, immor­tall in all the parts of his body, save onely his heele.

Great Kings, I will, if you please, take you for Achilles's, and will give out you are like him, invulnerable, but onely in the heele. But of what tem­per soever your Armes be, to what purpose serve they you with this de­fect? This onely blot duskes the luster of your glory. Nature has done surely well,Every Man would be immor­tall, but none takes paine to acquire immorta­lity. to prodigallize upon you thus, both her graces and favours; she hath immortaliz'd you but by halfes. All your apparences are divine, but something within spoiles all, each par­ticular is a heele, by which Death may surprize you.

Shall I say then that you are Achil­les's, who will beleeve mei, since your heads serve but as Buts to the shafts of Fortune?'Tis onely the con­sc [...]ence of a just Man is of proofe, against the stroake of Time and For­tune. To preach you invulne­rable, a small scratch may thereon give me the lye. Truth more power­full then flattery constraines me to call you by your name, for in remem­brancing you that you are but Men▪ [Page 25]I suggest you to the life all the disa­sters, which accompany your Life.

Man is so poore a thing, that one cannot give him a name but is ad­vantagious to him.Thou hast much to doe, to make Panegyricks in praise of Man, O Mercury Trimegistus, and to maintaine so confidently, that he is a great Mi­racle, it must be then a Miracle of misery, since Nature produceth no­thing so miserable as he is.

And thou Pythagoras, which hast had the fore-head to perswade us, that Man was a mortall God, if thou hadst made Anatomie of his carkasse, the stench of his filth, had soone made thee change this language. Plato thou reason'st well upon this sub­ject, yet without sound consideration, then when with an enforcement of spirit and eloquence, thou wouldst oblige us to beleeve,There is no Tongue in Na­ture which can-furnish us with termes strong enough to expresse the miseries of Man. that Man is of the race of the Gods: yes surely, since thy Gods are Gods of earth, the cause is matcht to the effect, for Man is of the same matter. Plotinus, thou also did'st not misse it, when in favour of Man, thou said'st he was an abridge­ment of the wonders of the world, for since all it's wonders heretofore so fa­mous [Page 26]are no more but dust and ashes, Man may hereof be the example with good reason.

O how much more is expert David in the knowledge of our condition, when he compares Man, not onely to the Dust, but to the Dust which flies away, to show us, that, that little which he is still, flies away till it be nothing in the end.

But how glad am I O Lord, that I am but Dust, to the end that I may flie towards heaven,Memento ho­mo quòd nihil es, & in nihi­lum reverteris. for the earth I under­valew. How I am satisfied that I am but Ashes, that I may but be able to keepe in my soule some little sparkle of thy love. What glory, and what content­ment too, is it to be devoured by wormes, since thou callest thy selfe a Worme? gnaw O Lord, gnaw both my heart and intrals.Ego sum ver­mis & non ho­mo. Psal. 22.6. I offer thee them in prey, and regive me new ones, that may offend thee no more. I know well that my life flits away by little and little, but how agreeable is this flight unto me, since thou art its ob­ject. I see well that my Dayes slide away, and passe in continuall course. [Page 27]But O what consolation is it to be sensible of dying at all houres, for to live eternally? O Verities, againe, what ravishments have you to conso­late the soules of the most afflicted? I returne to my subject.

Humility is ever honoured by all the world.Wee reade of the Priests of the Gentiles, that they writ letters every yeere to their Gods, upon the Ashes of the Sacrifices, which they made upon the top of Mount Olympus, and I beleeve that this was upon designe, that they might thus be better recei­ved, being written upon this paper of humility. Let us fetch now some truth from this fancy.All the parts of the body are as so many Characters of dust, wherein may be read the truth of our no­thingnesse. Let us write every day to heaven, upon the paper of our Ashes, confessing that we are nothing else, and let us make our sighs the faithfull messengers of these letters, as the onely witnesses of our hearts. I will hide my selfe under the Ashes, O Lord, to the end that thy Justice may not see me, said Da­vid. What Curtaine's this? This Soveraigne Justice which makes it bright day in hell, cannot pierce the Ashes to find underneath a Sinner. [Page 28]No,Seest thou how Ahab humbleth himselfe. I will not bring the evill in his dayes 1 Kings 21.29. no, for this vaile has the vertue to reflect the beames of this revenging light within the source, which produ­ced them.

Remember that I am nothing, O Lord, and that thou hast made me of nothing,Recordare quae so, quòd sieut argillam feeisti me & in pulveremredu­ces me. Iob 10.9. and every moment canst re­duce me to something lesse then no­thing; cryes out Iob, in his miseries. He finds no other invention to ap­pease the mild choller of his God, then putting him in mind of his infi­nite greatnesse, and at the same time of the pitifull estate, whereunto he is reduced. Why should you take Armes against me, O Lord, (pursues he) when the breath of your word is able to undoe the same, which it hath made me,Humility triumphs over all things. Remember, O Remember, that I am but what the benigne in­fluence of your divine regards permits me to be, for on the instant that you shall cease to regard me, I shall cease to live.

Man remember thy beginning, for thou art not made of Fire like the Starres, nor of Ayre like the winds, but of mire, from whence it is thou soyl'st all the would.Decke we then with Ashes our Bo­dy of Dust, and let us cover with a new earth our owne, to make Ram­piers of proofe against the thunders [Page 29]of heaven. See you not how its all-powerfull Justice, finds limitation in the confession of our being nothing. We need feare nothing, acknowledg­ing that we are nothing. Well may the thunder make a horrid rumbling, yet the Hyssope out-braves it in its lowlinesse.He which can overcome him­selfe shall never be vanquish't by a greater Cap­taine. Feare and Humility ever abandon each others company. The onely meanes to triumph over all things, is to vanquish Ambition.

O Lord, I durst scarce beleeve, that I am, if thy providence alone were not the Prop of my Being. But since thy goodnesse hath drawne me from the Abysse of Nothing; let thy grace cause me alwayes to keepe the re­membrance of my originall. Before Time was, I was Nothing; now Time is, I am yet Nothing. But what hap­pinesse is it to be Nothing at all, since thou art All-things? for if I search my selfe in vaine in my selfe, is it not sufficient that I am found in thee? I will then forget even mine own name, and muse of nothing, but of the Chi­mera of my being, since as a Chimera, it passeth away and vanisheth. The [Page 30]onely consolation,What a joy is it to passe away con­tinually with all things, towards him that hath created all things? that remaines me in my passage, is that thou alone re­mainest firme and stable, so that with­out end thou art the end of my car­reere, and without bounds limitest the extent of my course, as the onely object, both of my rest and felieity. See me now upon returne.

With what and over to be adored lustre, appeares the love of God in his day,Heaven changes the sighs of the Earth into tears, I meane its va­pours into dew. in the work of Man? Would not one say, that it seemes hee made him of earth, that hee might strow thereon, the seedes both of his bles­sings and graces! O fortunate Earth, which being diligently cultured, may bring forth the fruits of eternall hap­pinesse!

Boast thy selfe O Man, to be No­thing but Earth,Since we are of Earth, let us suffer this divine Sun of Love, to exhale the va­pours of our si [...]hs, for to me [...]amor­phose them into the teares of Re­pentance. since the heaven be­dewes the Earth continually. But if with a provoked eye, it lancheth out, sometimes its thunders upon it, her selfe doth afford hereof the matter. Live alwayes Innocent, and thou shalt not know what 'tis to feare. Imploy thy selfe without cease, to measure the depth of the Abysse of thy no­thingnesse; [Page 31]and though thou never pierce to the bottome hereof, thy paines shall not be unprofitable, be­cause seeking thy selfe in thy base­nesse, thou shalt alwayes recover thy selfe againe much greater then thou art.

The Sunne, this faire Planet of the Day, which with a continuall aspect,We are all amou­rous of our selves, not knowing for what, for our de­fects are objects rather of hate then Love. contemplates all created things, can­not make reflexion of his beames to see himselfe, as if his mother Nature had apprehended in making him so glorious; that the Mirrour of his light, might not be metamorphosed into a fire of love, to render him amo­rous of his owne proper lustre.

But the Intellect, this Sunne of our Soules, has a faculty with which it can both contemplate out of it selfe all things,A Man cannot stumble ordinari­ly, but through perve [...]snesse, since Reason enlightens him in the very worst wayes. and repeale againe the same power to consider it selfe, which makes a Man capable, not onely of the Meditation of the miseries of the World, but also of that of the affli­ctions and troubles, which insepara­bly keeps him company to the grave.

We reade of Moses, that God com­manded [Page 32]him to frame theThe Laver which was before the Tabernacle. Exod. 38.8. fore-front of the Tabernacle all of Mirrours, to the end, that those that should pre­sent themselves before his Altar, might view themselves, in this po­sture of Prayer. O this excellent My­sterie! Mortals, it behooves you to view your selves in the Mirrour of your Ashes, if you would have your vowes heard.

God hath taught us an excellent way of Prayer, Give us this day our dai­ly bread. But why O Lord, teachest thou us not to aske thee our bread for to Morrow, There is nothing assured in Life, but its continuall Death. as well as for to day? O how good a reason is there hereof! This is because that life hath no as­surance of tom-orrow; besides that it is an excesse of grace, that wee may be bold to crave of him, the bread of our nourishment for all a whole day, since every moment may be That of our Death. Reader, let this verity serve thee yet as a Mirrour, 'Tis not sufficient to muse of the necessity of dying, but to consider al­so that every houre may be our Lost. if thou would'st have thy prayers to pierce the heavens. This is not all, to know thy body is a Colosse of filth, which is traild along from one place to ano­ther, [Page 33]as it were by the last struggle of a Life alwayes languishing. It be­hooves thee also to call to mind, that every instant may terminate the course of thy troublesome carriere; and that this suddaine retreate, con­straines thee to bid Adieu for ever to all the things of the world, which thou cherishedst most. Thoughts onely worthy of a noble spirit!

I have eaten Ashes as bread, Psal. 102. 9. Cinerem tan quam panem manducabam. sayes the Royall Prophet; but how is it possi­ble? I conceive his thought. He en­tertained his soule with the remem­brance of the Ashes of his body, and this truth alone serv'd as object to his imagination, for to satisfie the appe­tite of his Soule. Lord give me both the same relish and desire, to repast my selfe still thus, of Dust and Ashes, in remembrancing my selfe alwayes, that I am nothing else.A man to abase himselfe below that which he is, being so poore a thing of nothing O sweet re­membrance of my rottennesse, since it steads me for eternall nourishment of my Soule! O precious memorie of my Nothingnesse, since able to satis­fie the appetite of my heart! Let this be the daily bread, O Lord, which thou [Page 34]hast taught me to aske thee, to the end, that all my desires together nourishment. I recollect my selfe in this digression.

Having diverse times mused of the imbecillity and weakenesse of Man, Si vitrei esse­mus, minus ca­sus timeremus. S. Aug. I am constrain'd to cry out with St. Augustin, What is there that can be more fraile in Nature? If we were of Glasse (pursues hee) our condition might therein be better,There is nothing more brittle than glasse, yet man is more. for a Glasse carefully preserv'd, may last long time, and yet what paine somever Man takes to preserve himselfe, and under what shelter somever, hee shrowds himselfe, for covert to the storme, hee breakes and is shattered of himselfe.

What reply you to these verities, Great Princes? Well may you now be arrogant: The fragilitie of Glasse cannot admit of comparison, with this of your nature; what seat will you give to your greatnesse? and what foundation to your vani­ty?Man is fully mi­serable, since his life is the source of his miseries. when the wind alone of your sighs, may shipwracke you upon the [Page 35]Sea of your owne proper teares? what surnames will you take upon you, for to make you be mis-taken? That of Immortall would become you ill, since every part of your body, serves but as a But to the shaftes of Death. Invincible, A man may doe every thing with vertue, without it nothing would also be no way proper, since upon the least touch of mishap, you are more worthy of pity, then capable of defence. Would you be called Gods? your Idolaters would immolate you to their owne laughter. Tread under foot your Crownes, if rightly you will be crow­ned with them, you onely thus ren­der your selves worthy of those ho­nours, which you misprize: for Glo­ry consists not in the possessing it,Heaven cannot bee acqu [...]red, but by the misprize of earth. but in the meriting; and the onely means to obtaine it, is to pretend nothing at all to it.

How remarkeable is the custome of the Locrians at the Coronation of their Kings: They burnt before them a handfull of Tow, to represent un­to them the instability of their gran­deurs, and the greedinesse of Time to destroy them. In effect, all the great­nesses [Page 36]of the Earth, are but as a bun­dlet of Tow;All the grandour of Kings is but as the blaze of fla­ming tow. and then when Darius would make of them his treasure, Mis-hap set fire on them, and redu­ced 'em into Cinders, and when hee had yet in his heart a desire to immor­talize them, a new fire seaz'd his in­trals, by the heat of thirst, which burn'd him to the end to consume at once, both the cause, and the effect. So true it is, that the Glory of the world vanisheth away like Smoke. Great Kings, if you build a Throne of Majestie to the proofe, both against Time and Fortune, lay its foundati­on upon that of your miseries.He which esteems himselfe the least of all, is the greatest. Humi­lity takes her rise in low linesse, from the lowest footing, when she makes her flight into the heavens.

O how admirable is the Humility of Saint Iohn Baptist! They would give him titles of Soveraignty, in taking him for the Messias: but call to you Memory, how with an ejaculation o [...] Love and reverence, hee precipitate [...] himselfe both with heart and though [...] into the Abysse of his owne No­thingnesse, there to admire in all hu­mility, [Page 37]both Greatnesse and Majesty in his Throne. I am but a voyce, Vox clamantis in deserto Iohn 1.23. sayes hee, which beat at the eares to enter into your hearts.

A Voyce, which rustles in a moment, and passes away at the same instant; What Humility! Is there any thing which is lesse any thing then a Voyce? 'Tis a puffe of wind, which a fresh one carries I know not where, since both lose themselves in the ayre, after its ne're solittle agitation, with their gen­tle violence. 'Tis nothing in effect, yet notwithstanding, the proper name of this great Prophet.Christus ver­bum, Iohannes vox. They would ele­vate him, and he abaseth himselfe so low, that he would render himself invi­sible as a Voyce, so much he feares to be taken for him, whose shooe-latchet, he judgeth himself unworthy to unloose.

Lord, what are we also, but a little Wind enclosed in a handfull of Earth? to what can one compare us,Iohn 1.27. A man is to bee estimated in pro­portion to the un­dervalue bee makes of himself without attributing us too much va­nity. True it is, that we are the works of thy hands, but all other created things beare the same Title, but if thy bounty hath beene willing to ad­vantage [Page 38]our nature with many gra­ces, proper and ordinated to it alone, these are so many witnesses, which convince us, not to have deserv'd them, since our very Ingratitude is yet a Recognizing of this Truth. In­somuch that as our Life is nothing but sinne, and sinne is a meere priva­tion, it may be maintained that wee are nothing else, and consequently no­thing at all.The most just man sinneth se­ven times a day.

But how Proud am I, O Lord, every time I thinke thou hast created me of Earth, for this is a Principall, which drawes me alwayes to it selfe, by a right of propriety; from whence I cannot defend my selfe. All things seeke their repose in their element. What is [...] for a man to trumph here of the no [...]d? the earth expects his spoyle. O how happy am I, to search mine in that of Dust and Ashes, whereof thou hast for­med me? The Earth demands my Earth, and my body as a little Gullet, separated from its source, speeds by little and little, to the same source, from whence it had its beginning. And this is that which impeaches me from gathering up my selfe, to take a higher flight. I should doe bravely, [Page 39]to hoyse my selfe above my Center,Pride hoyses up, only to give a fall. when the assay of my Vanity, and the violence of my fall, are but the same thing. I give still downewards upon the side of my weakenesses, and the weight of my miseries, overbeares upon the arrogance of my Ambition. O happy deffect,A man no doubt may misknow himselfe, yet the least hit of mis­hap teares the vaile of his hood­wink'tnesse. and yet more happy the condition, which holds me al­wayes enchained to the dunghill of my Originall, since the links of this easie servitude, are so many Mirrours which represent me that I am no­thing, whensoever I imagine my selfe to be something. Let us change our Tone, without changing sub­ject.

Ladyes, Remember that you dye every houre, behold, here a MIRROVR WHICH FLATTERS NOT. It shewes you both what you are, and such as you shall be. But if notwith­standing, you still admire your selves under an other visage, full of allure­ments, and sweets.A strange thing that death is still as neare us, as life, and yet wee never thinke on't. This is but Death himselfe, who hides him under these faire apparences, to the end you may not discerne him. It is true, you have [Page 40]gracefull Tresses of haire which co­ver your heads, and his is all Bald, but doe not you heed, how hee pulls them off from yours by little every day, and makes those which he leaves you, to turne White, to the end you may pull them out your selves?

It is true, your Eyes have a sparkling lustre, and beauty; but of his is seene onely the hideous place, where Na­ture had seated them: But doe you not consider, how with continuall action, hee Dusks the glory of this beauty; and in conclusion, puts to Eclipse these imaginary Pety-Suns.

It is true, your hue is of Lillyes, and your mouth of Roses, upon his face is seene onely the stubs of these flowers: but call to mind, that he blasts this Lilly-teint,Ci me and Death are the onely in­exorables. as well as Lil­lyes themselves; and that the vermil­lion of this Rosie-mouth lasts but as Roses; and if yet you differ to day from him in some thing, you may re­semble him to-morrow in all. I leave you to meditate of these Truths.

Man is a true Mirrour, which repre­sents to the naturall all things, which [Page 41]are oppos'd unto it. If you turne it downward to the Earth,Man is as one picture with two faces, and often the most naturall is falsest. we can see within nothing but objects of Dust and Ashes: but if you turne him to the Heavens-ward, there is to be admired in it beauties, and graces purely ce­lestiall. In effect, if we consider Man in his mortall and perishable condi­tion, hardly can one find any stay in this consideration, since hee is no­thing else but a Chimera, whose forme every Moment, by little and little de­stroyes, to reduce it to its first no­thing. And indeed, not to lye to ye, Man, is but a Puffe of Wind, since he lives by nothing else,Man is nothing in himselfe, yet comprehends all things. is filled with nothing else, and dyes onely by Pri­vation of it. But if you turne the Me­dall (I would say) the Mirrour of his Soule towards his Creator, there are seen nothing but Gifts of Immortali­ty, but graces of a Soveraigne bounty, but favours of an absolute Will. The heavens and the Stars appeare in this Crystalline Mirrour, What though man be made of earth; he is more divine than mortall. not by reflection of the object, but by a divine vertue proceeding from the Nature of his Cause. Let us to the End.

[Page 42] The slumber of vanities is a mor­tall malady to the soule.Me thinks This Page returnes againe to day within the Chamber of Phil [...] of Macedon, and drawing the C [...]taine, cryes out according to his [...]dinary.

Sir, Awake, and Remember that you are a Man: but why rouzes hee him to thinke of Death, since sleepe is its image Alexander knew himselfe mor­tall by his sleeping; and in effect those which have said, that sleepe was the Brother of Death, have drawne their reason of it, from their reciprocall resemblance. Awake then Great Kings; Not to ponder that you are mortall, your sleepe is a trance of this, but ra­ther that you are created for immor­tality. Remember you are Men. I will not say,A man should not forget his hea­venly beginning, having heaven for a daily object. subject to all the miseries of the Earth; but rather capable of all the felicities of heaven. Remember that you are Men. I will not say the shittle­cocke of Time, and the But to all the shafts of Fortune, but rather victors over ages, and all sorts of miseries. Re­member that you are Men; I will not say any more Conceiv'd in Corruption, brought forth by it, and also destroy­ed [Page 43]by it: But rather, I say, born for the glory of God,If a man should consider his worth by that which he cost, hee would love him­selfe perfectly. Living for to ac­quire it, and Dying for to possesse it. Remember that you are Men, I will say no more slaves of Sinne, the Flesh, and the World: but rather free for resistance to the first,A man may doe every good thing which hee desires, since in his im­puissance his will is taken for the deed. strong enough to vanquish the next, and more powerfull yet to give a Law to the third: Remember that you are men, I will no more say the pour­tract of Inconstancy, the object of e­very sort of ill, and the pasture of Wormes: But rather the Image of God, the subject of every sort of good, and the sole aliment of eternity, as created for it alone. Remember that you are men, I will not say made of clay, animated with mis-hap,Man is sure a thing something divine, which is not seene even to it selfe. and metamorphosed a'new into rottennesse; but rather made by the proper hand of God, animated by his bounty, and redeemed by his Grace.

I wonder at this, that they should call man a little world, since the least of his thoughts is able to signe out it's ex­pansion beyond a thousand worlds. True it is that he was made of Earth,Though hee bee made of clay, the workmanship is yet all divine. but the Master which hath made him, having also drawne himselfe in the middle of [Page 44]his worke (as did Phidias) renders him, more admirable than the Heavens. One might also judge at first view, that the greatest part of the creatures have ma­ny more Prerogatives then he. But con­trarily the heavens, the Stars, and all that nature hath most precious, have in no sort correspondence or equivalence to his grandeurs: let us see the proofe on't.

I grant that the Sea may make us ad­mire equally both it's vastnesse of Em­pire, and efficacy of power, the least teare of repentance which a Man sheds is a thousand times more admirable, since it remounts even to the source of that grace, which produc't it, and con­sequently beyond the Heavens. I grant that the Aire fils all, and its emense na­ture permits no vacuity,The heart of man is so vast, and spacious, that God onely can fill it. through the whole universe. The heart of man car­ries him farre higher, being never able to find satisfaction in it's desires, if it's Creators-selfe, though without mea­sure, be not its measure. Let the Fire alwayes greedy and ambitious, scale the heavens in apparence with continual action by the vain attempts of its ejacu­lations; The least sparckle of the fire of [Page 45]divine love wherewith man may be enfla­med is so pure and so noble,A man who loves God with all his heart, lives upon earth in the same fashion, as they live in heaven. that one can not conceave an example of its per­fection. Suppose the transparent hea­vens have no matter, then that of other forme, and they render themselves thus wonderfull in their simplicity, as in their course still equall, and still con­tinuall: the spirit of man is infinitely more excellent in its nature, and much more noble also in its actions, since it workes without selfe-motion, but with a manner so divine, that its thoughts carry it every where without change of state or place. Bee it that the Sun all marvellous in himselfe, and his effects produceth nothing but wonders. The Sun of reason, wherewith man is illu­minate, is wholly miraculous, since it operates in a divine semblable man­ner:The reason of man is a ray bea­ming from the Sunne of Divi­nity. the vertue of other creatures ve­getable, and sensitive is inseparably ad­ioyned also to the body of man, as its materiall: Insomuch that he con­taines in a degree of eminence above all the creatures of the world,Man hath some titles of Nobility, to which the ve­ry Angels them­selves cannot pre­tend. more perfections himselfe alone, then all they together have ever possessed. [Page 46]And I shall well say more yet. That Man hath certaine puissances of dispo­sition to elevate himself so high in his humility, that the Angels shall be be­low him.

If man were a­gaine to bee sold, who could ran­some him as hee cost?But if I shall yet moreover poize Man, in the ballance of the Crosse of his Saviour, and set him at the price of the blood, wherewith hee was redeemed, which of the creatures, or rather, which of the Angels, will be so bold, to dispute the preemi­nence?

Great Kings Remember then, that you are Men: but more admirable in your governments, then the Sea in its vast­nesse. Remember that your are Men, but also capable to purifie the Ayre, by one onely sigh, though even that sigh be made of nothing else.A man makes himselfe above all things, if hee vn­der value them with misprize. Remember that you are Men, but a thousand, thou­sand times yet more noble then the Fire, since the Seraphins burne inces­santly with those divine Fires, where­with your hearts may bee enflamed. Remember that you are Men: but more perfect then the Heavens, since they were not created, but to powre upon [Page 47]heads their benigne influences. Re­member that you are Men, Man is an a­bridgement ra­ther of the mar­vels of heaven, than of the mira­cles of earth. but more marvellous without comparison, then the Sunne; since your Reason is a di­vine light, which can never suffer Eclipse, but by opposition from a [...]oluntary depravednesse. Remember that you are Men: but also destin'd to command over all other living crea­ [...]ures. Remember that you are Men: but also kneaded as it were, by the hand of one All-powerfull, formed after his Image, and redeemed by his blood, what can one say more?

If a man did of­ten muse of the end, for which he was created, hee would therein set up his rest for all the inquietudes of the world.Unto what a point of Glory hast [...]hou then elevated me, O sweet Sa­ [...]iour? in abasing thy selfe even to the grave. After thou hadst formed me of [...]arth, thou hast also taken the same [...]orme for to resemble me in all things. Thou I say, O my God, whose infinite greatnesse, cannot admit onely the very admiration of the Separphins, [...]ut through the Traverse of the Vaile of their ordinary submissions. What [...]rodigie of bounty is this! Cause [...]e then O Lord, if it please thee, that may estimate my selfe at the price, [Page 48]which thou hast ransomed me for and that in such sort, that I may live no more, but in loving thee, to dye also one day of the same disposition▪ Let me be humbly-haughty, carrying the lineaments of thy resemblance that I may alwayes follow thee though not able to imitate thee This is that, which I will continually implore thee for, untill thou has [...] heard my vowes.

I advow now, O Mercurie Trimegi­stus, that thou hast reason to publish that Man is a great miracle, The magnificence of man hath nei­ther bounds nor limits, since God is his end. since God himselfe hath been willing to espous [...] his condition, to shew us in its mise [...]ries the miracles of his Love.

I confesse Pythagoras, that thou hast had no lesse ground to maintain [...] that Man was a mortall God, Though a man still fade away, hee is yet a lively pourtray of im­mortallitie. since ex­cept this sweet necessitie, which sub [...]jects him to the Tombe, hee has thousand qualities in him all immo [...]tall. I should finally have beene [...] advise with thee Plato then, when tho [...] preachedst, every where, that Ma [...] was of the race of the Gods, since [...] piece of work so rare, and so perfect [Page 45]could not proceed but from a hand Omnipotent,All the creatures are admirable, as the effects of a soveraigne and independant cause: but man has attributes of an unparalleld glory. I meane this Rivelet of admiration could not proceed but from a source most adorable. I am of thy opinion Plotinus, & henceforth will maintaine every where with thee, that Man is an abridgement of the wonders of the world: Since that all the Univers together was created but for his ser­vice, & pleasure. Say we yet moreover, that those wonders of the world, so re­nowned, are but the workes of his hands; so that also the actions of his spirit can take their Rise above the Sun, and beyond the heavens, and this too now in the chaines of its servitude.

Great Kings, Be it supposed that you are living pourtraits of Incon­stancy:Man flies away by little & little, from one part of himselfe, shat hee may entirely into himselfe. The perfection of your Nature lyes in this defect of your powers, for this Vicissitude, which God hath ren­dred inseparable to your condition, is a pure grace of his bounty: since you wax old onely, that you may be exem­pted from the tyranny of Ages: since (I say) you dye every moment, only to make acquisition of that immortalli­ty, to which his love has destin'd you.

[Page 46] This defect of in­constrancie is the perfection of man; since he ischange­able to day to bee no more so to morrow. O happy Inconstancy! if in changing without cease, we approach the poin [...] of our soveraigne felicity, whose foun­dations are immoveable. O dear Vicissitude! if row ling without inter­vall in the dust of our originall, we approach by little and little, to thos [...] Ages of glory, which beyond a [...] time assigne at our End, the beginnin [...] of a better Carreere. O Gloriou [...] Death, since terminated at that crue [...] instant,A man is onely happy in the perpe­tuall inconstancie of his condition which separates us from Im­mortality.

It is true, I confesse it againe, Gre [...] Kings, that you are subject to all th [...] sad accidents of your subjects;The greatest mi­serie that can ar­rive to a man, is to offend God. Bu [...] what happinesse is it, if these misfo [...] ­tunes are as so many severall waye [...] which conduct you into the Port. B [...] it granted, that you are nothing b [...] Corruption in your Birth, Miserie [...] your Life, and a fresh infection [...] many attributes of honour to yo [...] since you disroabe your selves in t [...] grave of all your noisomnesse, for [...] Decke your selves with the ornamen [...] of Grace, of felicity and glory, whi [...] [Page 47]belong in proper to your soules, as being created for the possession of all these Good Things.

Heaven, 'Earth, Nature, the very Divels are admi­rers of the great­nesse of man.Who can be able to dimension the greatnesse of Man; since he who hath neither bounds nor limits, would himselfe be the circumference of it? Would you have some knowledge of Mans power? heare the commande­ment which Iosuah made to the Sunne, to stop in the middest of his carreere. Would you have witnesses of his strength, Samson presents you all the Philistins buried together under the [...]uines of the Temple, whose founda­tions he made to totter. Require you some assurances of his courage? Iob of­fers you as many as he has sores upon his body. In fine, desire you some proofes of his happinesse. Heaven has sewer of Starres, then of felicities to give him.Man may bee whatsomever hee will be, What name then shall we [...]ttribute him now, that may be capa­ble to comprehend all his glory? There [...]s no other then this of Man; and Pilate did very worthily (no doubt) to turne [...]t into mockage before the Jewes;Iohn 19.5. hee [...]hews them a God under the visage ofEcce homo. Behold the Man. [Page 48]a Man. Let the world also expose the miseries of Man in publicke;The name Man is now much more noble than that of Angels. His Image of Earth is yet animated with a divine spirit, which can never change Nature. Well may they teare his barke, the Inmate of it is of proofe against the strokes of Fortune, as well as the gripes of Death. The Man of Earth may turne into Earth; but the Man of heaven takes his flight alwayes into heaven.With what new rinds some-ever a man hee covered, he beares still in his sore­head the markes of his Creator. That Man I say, fickle and inconstant, kneaded and shap't from durt, with the water of his owne teares may resolve, into the same mat­ter: But this stable and constant Man, created by an omnipotent hand, re­maines uncessantly the same, as incapable of alteration.

Rouse then your selves from sleepe great Princes, Hee that would alwayes muse of Eternitie, would without doubt, acquire its glory. not for to remember Death but rather to represent unto your selve [...] that you are immortall, since Death hath no kind of Dominion over you [...] Soules, which make the greatest, as be­ing the Noblest part of you.

Awake then great Monarchs, not fo [...] to Muse of this necessity, which drawe [...] you every houre to the Tombe: bu [...] [Page 49]rather to consider, that you may ex­empt your selves from it, if your Acti­ons be but as sacred as your Majesties.

Man ia a hidden treasure, whose worth God onely knowes. Great PRINCES Awake, and per­mit mee once more to remembrance You that you are Men, I meane the Master-pieces of the workes of God; since this divine worke-Master hath in conclusion metamorphosed himselfe into his owne worke, My feathered pen can fly no higher.

Man only is she ornament of the world.Those which have propounded that Man was a new world, have, found out proportionable relations, and great cor­respondencies of the one to the other, for the Earth is found in the matter whereof hee is formed, the Water in his [...]eares, the Aire in his sighes, the Fire [...]n his Love, the Sunne in his reason, [...]nd the Heavens in his imaginations. But the Earth subsists and he vanisheth, [...] Sweet vanishment! since he is lost [...] himselfe, that he may bee found in is Creator, But the Earth remaines [...]me, and his dust flyes away: O hap­ [...]y flight, since eternity it it's aime! The [...]ater, though it fleets away, yet returns [...]e same way, and ret orts upon it's own [Page 50]paces:Man may be sayd to be happy in be­ing subject to all mishaps. But Man contrarily being set­led upon the declining stoop of his ru­ine, rouls insensibly without intervall to the grave, his prison.Death is a grace rather than a paine. O deare ruine [...] O sweet captivity! since the soule re­covers her freedome, and this Sepul­ture serves but as a Furnace to purifi [...] his body. The Aire, although it cor­rupt, is not for all that destroyed, th [...] corruption of Man destroyes its mate­riall. O glorious destruction, since i [...] ­steades him as a fresh disposition to render him immortall. The Fire, thoug [...] it fairely devoure all things, is yet pre­served still it selfe, to reduce all th [...] World into Ashes: But Man perceive himself to be devoured by Time, with out ability ever to resist it. Oh ben [...] ­ficiall Impotence, since hee findes h [...] Triumph in his overthrow!The [...]el [...]citic of man in this world consists in the ne­c [...]ssity of death. the Sunn [...] causeth alwayes admiration in its o [...] ­dinary lustre, but Mans reason is im­paired in the course of Times. Oh we [...] ­come impairement, since Time ruin [...] it but onely in an Anger, knowing th [...] it goes about to establish its Empire beyond both time and Ages. In find the Heavens may seem to wax old [...] [Page 51]their wandring course:How happy is man in decaying evermore since he thus at last renders him­selfe exempt from all the mise­ries which pursue him. they yet appear the same still every day, as they were a thousand yeeres a'gon: Man from mo­ment to moment differs from himselfe, and every instant disrobes him some­what of his Beeing. Oh delightfull Inconstancy, since all his changes make but so many lines, which abut at the Center of his stability.

A long life is a heavie burthen to the soule, since it must render an account of all its moments.How mysterious is the Fable of Narcissus; the Poets would perswade [...]s, that Hee became selfe-enamoured, [...]ewing Himselfe in a Fountaine. But [...] am astonish't, how one should be­come amorous of a dunghill, though [...]overed with Snow or Flowers. A face cannot be formed without Eyes, Nose, [...]nd Mouth, and yet every of these [...]arts make but a body of Misery, and Corruption as being all full of it.

This Fable intimates us the repre­ [...]ntment of a fairer truth, since it in­ [...]tes a Man to gaze himselfe in the [...]ountaine of his teares, thus to become morous of himselfe, not for the li­ [...]eaments of dust and ashes, whereof [...]s countenance is shap't, but rather of [...]ose beauties and graces, wherewith [Page 52]his soule is ornamented, and all these together make but a rivelet,If a man could contemplate the becauties of his soule in innocence he would alwaies be surprized with us love. which leads him to the admiration of that source from whence they tooke their origi­nall.

Oh how David was a wise Narcissus! then when hee made of his Teares a Mirrour, If a man would of en view him­selfe in the teares of his repentance, be would soon be­come a true self­ [...]over. so to become enamour'd of himselfe, for he was so selfe-loving in his repentance, that in this Hee spent both dayes and nights, with unparelle­led delights.

But if Narcissus ship-wrack't him­selfe in the fountaine of his selfe-fond­nesse; This great King was upon point to Abysse himselfe in the Sea of his t [...]eres,All the vaine objects of the world are so many foun­taines of Narcis­sus, wherein prying men may sh [...]pwracke them­selves. for their liquid Crystalline shewd him to himselfe so beautifull, that hee burned with desire thus to drowne himselfe.

Ladies vie [...] your selves in this Mir­rour, since you are ordinarily slaves to your owne selve love. You will be faire at what price soever; see here is the meanes. The Crystall Mirrour of your teares flatter not, contemplate therein the beauty of this grace, which God hath given you to bewaile your vani­ties, [Page 53]This is the onely ornament which can render you admirable All those de­ceitfull Chrystals,Teares are the faithfullest Mi­rours of peni­tence. which you weare hang'd at your Girdles, shew you but fained beauties wherof Art is the work­mistresse and cause, rather then your visages: Would yee be Idolaters of the Earth which you tread on? your bo­dies are but of Durt; but if you will have them endeared, where shall I find tearmes to expresse their Noysomnesse? Leave to Death his Conquest, and to the Wormes their heritage,If Ladies would take as much care of their souls as of their bodies, they would not hazard the losse both of one and to'ther. and search your selves in that originall of Immor­tality, from whence your soules pro­ceed, that your actions may correspond to the Noblenesse of that cause. This is the most profitable counsell which I can give You: It is time to end this Chapter.

Great Kings I serve you this Mor­ning instead of a Page, to awake You, and remembrance You that you are Men: I meane, Subjects to Death, and con­sequently destinated to serve as a Prey to the Wormes, a Shittle-cocke to the Windes, and matter for to forme an object of horror and astonishment to [Page 54]you altogether. Muze a little, that your life passeth away as a Dreame; The meditation of our nothingnesse, is a soveraigne remedie against vanitie. thinke a little that your thoughts are vaine; consider at the same time, that all that is yours passes and flies away. You are great, but this necessity of Dying equals you to the least of your subjects.Men are so neare of blood together, that all beare the same name. Your powers are dreadfull, but a very hand-worme mocks at 'em: your riches are without number, but the most wretched of men carry as much into the grave as you. In fine, may all the pleasures of Life make a party in Yours, yet they are but so many Roses, whose prickles onely remaine to you at the instant of Death. Man hath no­thing so proper to him, as the mise­ry to which hee is borne. The horror which en­virons You, chaseth away your great­nesses, the weakenesse which possesseth you, renders unprofitable your absolute powers, and onely then in that shirt, which rests upon your backe, are com­prised all the treasures of your Coffers. Are not these verities of importance e­nough to breake your sleepe?

If the earth be our mother, hea­ven is our fa­ther.I awake you then for to remembrance you this last time, that you are Men: but destined to possesse the place of those evill Angels, whose Pride concaved [Page 55]the Abysses of Hell: that you are Men, but much more considerable for the government of your reason, then your Kingdome. That you are Men, but ca­pable to acquire all the felicities of Heaven, if those of the Earth are by you disdained. That you are Men, but called to the inheritance of an eternall Glory, if you have no pretence to any of this world.

Lastly, that you are Men: but the living images of an infinite and omnipotent one.Though the body and soule toge­ther make up the man: there is yet as much d [...]ffe­rence between the one and the other, as between the sc [...]bberd and the sword. Cleare streames of immortality remount then to your eternall source. faire rayes of a Sunne without Eclipse rejoyne your selves then to the body of his celestiall light. Perfect patternes of the divinity, unite your selves then to it, as to the independant cause of your Beeing. Well may the Earth-quake under your feet, your wils are Keys to the gates of its abysses: should the Water or'e-whelme againe all, your hopes cannot be shipwrack't. That the Aire fils all things may bee, but your expectations admit of some vacuum. Though the Fire devoure all things; the object of your hopes is above its [Page 56]flames, let the heavens poure downe in a throng,Although the pu­issaences of the soule, worke not but by the senses, the effects in this point are more no­ble then the cause their malignant influences here below: your soules are under co­vert from their assaults. Let the Sun ex­haling vapours make thereof thunders for your ruine: you are under the pro­tection of him who ejaculates their flashes;Man needs feare nothing, being a­ [...]evated above a.l. insomuch that instead of hur­ting you, all things doe you homage. The Earth supports you, the Water re­fresheth you; the Aire imbreaths you, the Fire warmes you;Man could not be more happy then be is, since God is his last felicity. the Sun lights you, & Heaven attends you; the Angels ho­nour you, the Divels feare you, Nature obeyes you, and God himselfe gives himselfe to you to obliege you to the like reciprocation. Is not this to possesse with advancement all the felicities, which you can hope? I dare you to wish more.

A wake thy selfe then Reader, and let thy conscience and thy miserie each in its turne serve thee as a Page every mor­ning to put thee in mind, That thou art a Man, To dye is proper to man. I meane a pourtraict animated with Death, rather then with Life, since thou canst doe nothing but dye, but in this continuall dying, amid the throng [Page 57]of evils and paines which are enjoyned to thy condition; Consider also that thou art created to possesse an Eternity both of life and happinesse,How happy is man, thus to bee able to be as much as he desires. and that all these infinite good things are exposed as an ayme of honour and glory to the addresses of thy will; for if thou wilt, Paradise shall bee thine, though Hell gape at thee; Heaven shall be thy share, it's delights thy Succession, and God alone thy Soveraigne felicity.

The horrour and misery of the grave, makes the haire stand on end to the prou­dest. ARrogant spirits, ambitious Hearts be silent, and lend an eare to the publicke cry of this Herald, who with a voyce animated with hor­rour and affright, as well as with com­passion and truth, proclaimeth aloud, in the view of heaven and earth, and in the presence of a world of people; That this Great SALADINE, magnifi­cent Conquerour of Asia, and Monarch of the whole East, carryes away to the grave for [Page 72]fruit of his victories but onely a shirt, which covers the mould of his body, and even this scrap of linnen too, Fortune leaves him, but to give the wormes.

Absolute Kings, puissant Soveraignes, what will you reply to these discourses, for to you they are addrest? I doubt well, that shame, confusion and asto­nishment, barre your speech,This necessily of dying, serves for temperament to the vanity of the greatest Mo­narchs of the world. and that this sensible object of your proper mi­series, affects you so with ruth, to force from your bosomes a thousand sighs. The greatest Monarch of the earth be­comes at a clap so little, as not to be found, no, not in his miseries, for the wind begins already to carry away the dust whereof hee was formed. The powerfullest King of the world, is re­duc'd to such a point of weakenesse, that he cannot resist the wormes, after vanquishment and subjugation of en­tire Nations. The richest Prince of the East, takes a glory of all his trea­sures, to carry away but onely a shirt to his Sepulture. What can you an­swer to these verities?

This famous Saladine, the terrour of men, the valour of the earth, and the [Page 73]wonder of the world,Man cannot com­plaine of the world, since at his death he gives him a shirt, which at his birth, his mother Nature refused him. esteemes him­selfe so happy, and so advantaged by fortune, in respect she leaves him this old ragge to cover his corruption, that he makes this favour, to be published with sound of trumpet, in the midst of his Army, that none might be in doubt on't: what beyond this can be your pretentions? I grant you may be seated like Xerxes, upon a Throne all of massie gold, canopied with a gliste­ring firmament of precious stones; and that on what side somever you turne your menacing regards, you see nothing but objects humbled before your Royall Majesties. You never seate your selves upon these Thrones of magnificence, but as it were, to take leave of the assembly,All the speeches of Men are but discourses of adieu & leave-taking, since every day be marches straight forward toward Death. continuing still to give your last God-bwyes, like a man who is upon point to depart con­tinually, since he dyes every moment. Insomuch, that all this Pompe which accompanyes, you, and which gives shadow to the luster wherewith you are environed, vanishes away with you, and all those who are its ad­mirers, and idolaters, runne the [Page 74]same fortune, being of the same na­ture.

Be it from me granted, that the re­port of your glory, admits no vacuity, no more then the Ayre does, and that your name is as well knowne as the Sunne, and more redoubted then the thunder. This voyce of renowne is but as the sound of a Bell,To what purpose doth the renown of a Man make a noyse in the world? the noyse [...]e [...]seth, the re­nowne passeth. which redoubles a noyse to its owne detriment, to ad­vertise those that doubt on't; and this name so famous, and dreadfull, find­ing no memory here below to the proofe of ages, buryes it selfe at last, in the nothingnesse of its beginning.

Be it againe, that all the Gold of the Indies can be valewed but to a part of your Estate, and that all the world to­gether, possesse lesse treasure then you alone; what advantage thinke you to beare away, more then the most mise­rable of the world, that in this you should be vaine? Enjoyes not he the same Sunne which lights you? hath not he the same usage of the Elements,The tranquillity of t [...]e mind and the health of bo­dy, are the only riches of the world. whereof you make use? But if you have more then he, a gloriousnesse of apparell, and a thousand other super­fluous [Page 75]things (which are altogether estranged to vertue, as being imagi­nary goods, whose appearance alone is the onely foundation) hee may an­swere you with Seneca, that with what­somever coverture a Man hides the shame of his nakednesse, he shall passe for well-clothed among wise men. And to come to the point; a Man hath al­wayes enough wherewith to follow his way, and to finish his voyage. The surplus is but a burden of cares, which are metamorphosed into so many bry­ars, when Death would discharge us of them. Besides, Riches consists but in opinion, though their treasures be palpable and sensible. A man is Rich, equall to that which he beleeves him­selfe to be.He is the most rich, who is most conient. And though hee hath no­thing, this Grace wherewith hee is treasured, to finde rest in his miseries, is above all the Gold of the world.

What difference thinke you there is betwixt the Rich and the poore? both the one and the other, are equally pilgrims and travellers, and goe alike to the same place. Then, if the Rich passe through the fairer way, they ren­counter [Page 76]when they dye,All Mortals to­geth [...]r make a dance of blind men, who in dancing runne to death without s [...]g the way they passe. all the thorns of those roses which they have past upon. There is no arrivall to the Ha­ven of the grave, without being tempe­sted sooner or later, in the storme of those miseries, which accompany us. And me thinks it is a comfort, to suf­fer in good time those evils, which we cannot avoyd.

Rich-ones, how miserable doe I hold you, if the goods of the earth be your onely treasures! Rich-ones, how unhappy are you, if your felicities be but of Gold,The treasure of good workes only inriches us eter­nally. and Silver! Rich-ones, how you compell my pity of your greatnesses, if you have no other titles then those of your Lord-ships! Rich­ones, how frightfull only at the houre of Death are your names, since the misery, wherein you are borne, ac­companyes you in the sepulchre.

True it is, that the Ayre of the Re­gion where you dwell, may be very temperate, the Seasons of it faire, and the lands fertile: but you consider not, that while you live, you often sigh backe the ayre which you receive; that this sweet time, which smiles on you, [Page 77]entraines you in flying to the season of teares,The content of riches is like an odor ferous fume, but it passes, and so doth their en­joyment also, and there is all. and that very soone the dung­hill of your bodyes shall perhaps ren­der the lands yet more fertile.

The Rich Men of the world have done nought but passe away with the ages, that gave them birth: you are borne in this, and this very same goes away, and leads you with it, and all the rest of Men, without skilling what you are, or in what fashion you are ve­sted, well may you possesse an infinite number of treasures; you must al­wayes trot, and rise as soone i'the mor­ning as others: but if you play the slugs, and sleep too long,'Tis strange, whether we shift place and s [...]at or no, we yet runne incessantly to Death. Death comes in the end to awake you, and interrupt your repose with an eternall disquiet. What will you say to this? The fable of Midas comprehends in it important verities; Apollo grants him all that hee demands, he satiates the appetite of his unmeasurable ambition by the vertue which he gives to his touch, to be able to turne all things into gold. See him now rich for a day, his hands are as new Philosophers-stones, which make the grossest, and most impure metals, [Page 78]change both nature,To what purpose is it to be envi­roned with riches? they are a strange kind of good, whereof one can enjoy the usage but for a moment onely. and price, he sees himselfe enrounded in a moment with so great a number of treasures, that he begins to apprehend the enjoyment of those goods, which he desired with so much passion; and from feare hee comes to astonishment: then, when prest with hunger, all the Viandes which he touches with his hands, lips, or tongue, are metamorphosed into Gold. O inseparable amazement, from a mortall griefe, caused by a sembla­ble regreet, that hee could not limit his ambition, but to the desire of his owne ruine!

Rich-men, you are as so many Mi­dasses, since with all your treasures, you never importune heaven for any other thing, but to increase their num­ber, to which effect you destinate your cares, your watchings, and your la­bours. But make no more imploring vows; behold your selves at last heard. The glistering of your riches dazles me, your greatnesses and magnificen­ces give you cheerefull tincture; yet let us see the reverse of the Medall.

After your so many strong wishes [Page 79]for Gold and Silver,The covetous growes poore in measure as hee growes rich, since in encreasing his treasures, encrea­ses the famine of his insatiable avarice, and thus of what he posses­ses he enjoyes no­thing. their treasures remaines to you for to satiate, at least in dying, the unruled appetite of the ambition of your life. Riches I say environ you on all sides, after your so passionate covetize of them. But in this last instant, their possession is the saddest object, which can be presented to your thoughts. And notwithstan­ding 'tis the onely nourishment which rests to you, amid the hunger which torments you uncessantly, as if for pu­nishment of part of your crimes, hea­ven did permit, that the instruments of your pleasures,A Man carryes away nothing with him at his Death, but either a regreet or else a satisfaction of an evill or a good Life. should also be the same of your punishments, considering the greatnesse of your miseries, by that of your unprofitable treasures: for af­ter all you must dye, and though you carry with you this desire, to beare a­way with you your riches into the tombe, they remaine in your coffers, for to serve as witnesses to your heires, of the vanity of their enjoyment.

The Silke-wormes, which have so much trouble to spin out their mouths their little golden threads, thinke to stablish to themselves a shelter of ho­nour, [Page 80]to the proofe of all sorts of at­teints, and on the contrary, they warp the web of their owne ruine. Just so is it with the Rich-ones of the world, who an ingenious industry,To what effect is't to seeke repose in this world? 'tis never to be sound but in God. employ all their assayes, to lay solide founda­tions here below of an immortall life, and yet all their actions cannot but terminate in an end contrary to their designes; since they search Eternity in the circles of Ages, alwayes in re­volution, and repose in the perpetuall instability of all worldly things. Inso­much, that they trouble themselves to suffer much, and all their cares and paines, are but as fresh sowings ofSee the ambi­guity of the French word Soucies, in the first Chapter. Marigolds, which dying in their gar­dens, respring in their hearts, there to dye never. Behold the end of their jor­ney-worke.

Treasures, to what effect serve you me, if I must enter all naked into the grave? Pleasures, what becomes of your sweets, if my last sighs are but bitternesse? Grandeurs of this life, in what stead you me, if you cannot exempt me from the miseries of Death?

[Page 81] LORD, I am rich enough in that I serve for an object of pity to thy ado­rable Providence, whose o're-liberall bounty furnishes me for all my dayes nourishment enough to passe them, what can I wish more? on what side somever I take my way, to goe the course of Death,Heaven is an ob­ject of consolation to the most mise­rable. I can never loose from view the heavens, which are the Gates of thy Palace. Insomuch, as if any thing faile me, I have but to strike there with my regards, thou art alwayes upon a ready watch, to succour the miserable. Supply me then, O LORD, if it please thee, with thy ordinary cha­rities, and since that hope dyes after me, I will rather cease to be, then to hope in thee. These are the strongest resolutions of my soule.

We beg of God every day new favours, & every day we render our selves un­thankefull for those we have received.We reade of the children of Israel. that having received of God and infinity of riches, at their comming out of the red Sea, by the wracke of their ene­mies, they made of their treasures, Idols, and joyning in this sort Idola­try to Ingratitude, they erected altars to their brutality, since under reliefe of a brute beast, they represented their God.

[Page 82] But leave wee there the children of Israel, and speake of the Fathers of BA­BYLON, I meane those wicked rich ones of the world, to whom God hath done so great favours, in heaping them with so many goods. Are not they every day convicted of Idolatry, in their unacknowledgement, since the coffers of their treasures are the Idols of their temples?Are we worthily Christians, when idolatry is more familiar to us then to infidels, since we make idols of all the ob­jects of our pas­sions? More beasts then brutes, in their voluntary depravednesse; they offer incense to their brutish passions; and no otherwise able, but to erect them secret altars in their soules, they there sacrifice every houre a thousand sighs of an unsatiable ambition. Inso­much, that the God of heaven is the God of their dissimulation, and the Calfe of Gold, the God of their beleefe and opinion.

Say wee then boldly, that the ob­jects of our passions are Golden Calve [...] to us, since our hearts become their Idolaters. One here will sigh for love of honours, as well as for his Mistresse with designe to hazard a thousand lives, and as many soules, for the con­quest of their vaine felicities: and see [Page 83]here his idolatry, making his God of these Chimera's of honour, which va­nish away like a Dreame, at the rou­zing up of our reason.

What folly is't, to seeke repose in the world, which subsists onely in revolution?Another there, will lose quite and cleane, all the peace wherein he is of a quiet life, for to set up a rest purely imaginary in the amassement of trea­sures. And of heaven hearing his votes, with designe to punish him, give some favourable successe to his cares, and watchings, hee becomes and Idolater now indeed, an Idolater of those goods, which as yet he adored but in hope, and renders himselfe miserable, for having desired too ardently felici­ties, which onely beare the voyce to be so, but their usage and possession may prove as dangerous upon the earth, as Rocks within the Sea.

The goods of the earth are right evils, and at Death each one shall so experi­ment 'em.One will have his heart wounded, and his Soule atteinted with a new tricke of ambition, and as all his desires & thoughts are terminated to the ob­jects of his designes, hee is never in health, while the feaver of his passion is continuall. I leave you to consider of what ratiocination hee can be capa­ble, [Page 84]during the malady of his spirit. All sorts of wayes seeme equally faire unto him, for to guide him unto the port whither hee aspires, having no other ayme but this to acquire, a [...] what rate somever that good whereof he is in Quest; and of this Good, it is where of he makes his Idoll, after a shameful immolation of the best dayes of his Life, to the anxieties of its posses­sion.

Another will establish his repose in the turmoyle of the word, turning his spirit to all winds, to be under cover [...] from the tempests of fortune. Blind as he is, hee followes this Goddesse with the hoodwinckt eyes. Wavering as he is, he aspires but after the favours of this inconstant Deity, of which he is secretly an idolater, but if perchance she elevate him very high, there is no more hazard of his fall, the lawes o [...] this necessity are inviolable, and one cannot avoyd the rigour of them, if not avoyding their servitude. Insomuch that after hee hath sneak't himselfe a long time amongst the grandeurs of the earth, hee finds himselfe enlaby­rinthed [Page 85]in the miseries, wherein hee is borne, without possessing any thing in propriety, but the usance of a puffe of wind, which enters once againe at last into his entrals, to force thence the last sigh. And thus hee becomes the Victime of the Idoll of his passions, without purifying ne're the lesse from the sacrifice of his life, the soyle of those offerings, which hee hath made upon the altars of Vanity. Behold the sad issue of this Dedalean labyrinth, wherein so many of the world take pleasure to intricate themselves in.

O how Rich is he, LORD, who hath thy love & feare for his treasure? O how happy is he,If the fruition of all the world to­gether were to be sold, it were not worth so much trouble as to open the mouth onely to say, I will not buy it. who hath for object of feli­citie the contempt of these things of the world! O how Contented is hee, who thinkes alwayes of eternall delights! To have many riches for a hundred yeeres, is not this to possesse at the end of that terme a Good, which is as a good, as never to have beene. To taste greedily the sweets of every sort of prosperity, during the raigne of a long life; is it not already to dye by little and little for griefe to abandon them, [Page 86]since in flying away, they intraine us into the grave. To pant continually for joy in the presence of a thousand pleasures, is it not to prepare in one's breast, the matter of as many griefs? since every contentment is a disposi­tion to a kind of martyrdome, by the necessary and infallible privation of its sweets, whereof while we taste on't, it menaceth us. In fine, to have all things at wish, is it not to possesse vaine bu­sinesses, since the world has nothing else to offer us? The riches which Fortune gives and takes away againe when she will,A wicked rich Man is much astonisht at his Death, to have his conscience voyd of good works, and his coffers full of mony, since with all the gold of the world, hee cannot purchase the grace of the least repentance. can never enrich a Man, it behooves him to seeke his treasure in the mines of his conscience, so to be un­der covert from sinne; for otherwise hee runnes the same hazard, as of the goods which hee possesses, I meane in their decay, to loose himselfe with them. The prosperities of the earrh, are once more fresh flowers of the gar­den, faire to the eye, and of good sent, but 'tis to much purpose to gather them, and make nose-gayes; in hol­ding them one holds nothing, because their fragility renders them so slip­perie, [Page 87]that they 'scape both from our eyes and hands, and though their flight be slow, one day only is all their durance. The pleasures of the world are of the same nature, I grant they may have some agreeablenesse to charme our senses, yet 'twere too vaine to vaunt of their possession, though one enjoyes them, forsomuch as they slip away,The arrivall of pleasures annun­ciates us alwayes their fueedie de­parture. and vanish without cease from our eyes, like the alwayes-flitting water trills. Their sway hath so short limits, that each moment may be the terme on't. So­lid contentments are onely found in heaven, and the onely meanes to rellish them beyond all sweetes, is continually to Muze on them, for ha­ving alwayes our spirit arrested upon meditation of an object so delitious, our thoughts draw thence by their ver­tue this efficacy, to ravish us with joy. I returne to my first propositi­on.

The good or ill which we doe, ac­companies us to the grave.That the greatest MONARCH of the world, after possession of all things to his wish, and having led a thousand times fortune herselfe in triumph, upon the territories of his [Page 88]Empire should in conclusion be expo­sed all naked in his SHIRT, at the end of his carreere, to serve for a prey to the wormes, and a shitlecocke to the winds, certes a man must needs be very insen­sible, not to be toucht with affright at these truths.

The misprizall of riches, is the onely treasure of life. GREAT KINGS, if you have not other Mines of Gold more precious then those of the India's; you shall dye as poore as you were borne: and as Teares were the first witnesses of your misery, sighs shall be the last of your po­verty, carrying with you this regreet into the grave, to have possessed all things, and now to find your selves in estate of enjoying nothing.

If we would ac­quire Heaven, we ought to have no pretence to Earth. GREAT KINGS, if you have no other marks of soveraignty, but this of the large extent of your territories, the tribute which your subjects shall render you at the end of the journall, shall be very little, since the long spa­ces of your Empire shall be bounded with seven foot.

GREAT KINGS, if you have no other treasures then those of the rent of your Demeanes, all those goods [Page 89]are false, and the regreet of their priva­tion too true.The rents of ver­tue's demeanes are not subject to fortune. But if you doubt of this yet, consult the dumbe oracle of the Ashes of your Ancestours, and the truth will answere for them, that they never have had any thing more proper to them then miserie, nothing more sen­sible then disasters, and that with all the riches which they have enjoyed du­ring life, they have not beene able to procure at the houre of Death, more then that piece of linnen, wherein they are inveloped.

True valour ha's no other object, but the conquest of eternall things. GREAT KINGS, if you have no other Philosopher-stone but this, the Conquest which your Valour may make, all your greatnesse, and all your riches, shall bee enclosed in the coffins, wherein you shall be buryed. For, all that Fortune shall give you to day, DEATH shall take from you to morrow, and the day after, one may count you in the ranke of the most miserable. I will againe change tone.

What a contagious maladie in this age, wherein we are, is this passion of amassing treasures! All the world would [Page 90]be rich, as if Paradise were bought with ready mony, If one knew the perill of being rich, he would onely be in love with povertie. and that the com­merce of our safety were a publike Banke, where the most covetous ren­der themselves the most happy. Every one makes bravado of his acquists, and poyzeth his felicities to the balance of his riches, being never able to be otherwise content, but in reference to the measure of what he is estated in.

There one will assume a pride to have ten thousand Acres of wood, whose revenue, nourisheth his passions, and entertains his pleasures. We may call Man a Tree, whose root is the immortall soule, and the fruits which it beares are of the same nature ei­ther for glory or punishment. Insomuch, that he considers not that these Trees are la­den but with the fruit of these world-miseries; & of all together he shal bear away, but the branch of one only, which shall serve very soone for a Beere to his carkasse, See in what consists the pro­fit of his rents, after their account made.

Another will be rich onely in Me­dowes, and changing his hay into Gold, which is but Earth; he fills therewith his coffers. But Foole, that he is, hee thinks not that his life is a Medow, his body the hay thereof and Time the [Page 91]Mower,The World is a Medow, and all the objects which therein we ad­mire, are flowers, which fade every houre. who by his example makes publicke trafficke of the same mar­chandize, changing by little and litle the hay of his body into Earth. And is not this to be very ingenious to cheat a man's selfe?

Anothers ayme is onely to be rich in buildings, some 'the' Country, some 'th' City, and assuming vanity from the number, as well as the magni­ficence of his Pallaces, hee beleeves that they are so many Sanctuaries of proofe, against the strokes of fortune, or the thunders of heaven. What a fol­ly's this, to esteeme ones selfe happy, for having diverse Cabbins upon earth, to put himselfe under couvert from the raine, and wind, during the short journey of life? The raine ceases, the wind is past, and life dyes, and then the tempest of a thousand eternall anguishes comes to entertaine him, without possibility of discovery, even from hope, one onely port of safety. To be onely rich then, in aedifices, is to be rich in castles of paper and cards, such as little children lodge their pety cares in.

[Page 92] We must build upon the unshake­able foundations of eternitie, if a man would be sheltered from all sorts of stormes.To what purpose steads it us to be richly lodged, if every houre of the day may be that of our departure? Men trouble themselves to build houses of pleasure, but the pleasures fade away, and we also, and these houses remaine for witnesses of our folly, and for sen­sible objects of sorrow, and griefe, in that cruell necessity to which wee are reduced to abandon them. It is to be considered, that wee are borne to be Travellers and Pilgrims, and as such, are wee constrain'd to march alwayes straight to the gist of Death, without ever resting, or being able to find re­pose even in repose it-selfe. To what then are all these magnificent Palla­ces,Though we say the Sunne sets every night, yet it rests not: and so Man, though he lay himselfe to sleepe, rests not from his voyage to Earth. when our onely retreat beats on to the grave? To what end are all this great number of structures, when wee are all in the way, and point to end our voyage? O how well is hee housed, that lodgeth his hope in God, and layes the foundations of his habitation up­on ETERNITIE! A good conscience is the richest house that one can have.

Another designes his treasures in numerous Shippings, traficking with all [Page 93]winds, in spight of stormes and tem­pests: but be it granted a perpetuall calme as heart could wish, and ima­gine we, (as himselfe does) that hee shall fish with Fortunes nets, all the Pearles of the OCEAN; what can he doe at the end with all his ventures? if he trucke them away, hee can gaine but stuffe of the same price, if hee sell them, he does but change white puri­fied earth for yellow, which the Sunne purifies as well within the mines: what will hee doe now with this new marchandise, or this his gold? behold him alwayes in trouble, to discharge himselfe of so many burdens. If gold were potable, hee might perhaps nou­rish himselfe therewith for a while; but as MIDAS could not doe it in the fable, he will ne're bring it to passe in the verity, he must needs keep watch then day and night to the guard of his riches; and well may hee keep senti­nell, Death comes to robbe him of them, since at his going out of the world she takes them away from him. What apparence is there, that the treasures of the Sea should be able [Page 94]to make a man rich, since the possession of all the world together cannot doe it. A hundred thousand ships are but a hundred thousand shuttle-cockes for the winds,The treasure of good workes, is eternall riches. and a hundred thousand ob­jects of shipwracke. Suppose they ar­rive to the Port, the life of their Ma­ster is alwayes among rocks, for 'tis a kind of ship, which cannot arrive at other shore, but at the banke of the grave. And I leave you to consider what danger he may runne, if there the storme of his avaricious passion cast him. The sand-blind-sighted may foresee his ruine, and the most judi­cious will beleeve it infallible. Be­hold in fine a man rich to much pur­pose,Our life is a Ship, which loosing from the Haven of the Cradle, at the moment of our birth, never comes ashore againe, till it run aground upon the grave. that would have drayn'd by his ambition, the bottomlesse depths of the Ocean, and now to find himselfe ith'end of his carreere, in the abysses of hell, having an eternitie of evils for recompense of an age of anxieties, which hee hath suffered during his life.

LORD, if I would be rich in wood, let it be in that of thy CROSSE, and from henceforth let its fruits be [Page 95]my revenues, and my rents. If I would traficke in meads; Let the meditation of the hay of my life, be my onely pro­fit. If I set my selfe to build houses,He which puts his trust in God, is the richest of the world, how poore somever he be. let it be rather for my soule then for my body, and in such sort, that my good workes may be the stones, and the purity of my conscience the foundation. And lastly, If I would travell the Seas, to goe to the conquest of their trea­sures: let my teares be the waves there­of, and my sighs the winds, and thy grace alone, the only object of my riches.

Make me then rich, O LORD, if it please thee, by the onely misprise of all the treasures of the Earth, 'Tis alreadie a sufficient enjoy­ment of rest and quiet, to set up ones rest in God onely. and teach this secret language to my heart, never to speake but of thee in its de­sires, nor of other then thy selfe in its hopes, since of thee alone, and in thee onely lies the fulnesse of its perfect fe­licity and soveraigne repose. Let us not rest our selves in so faire a way.

I cannot comprehend the designe of these curious Spirits, who goe seeking the Philosophers-stone in that Spitle, where an infinite number of their companions are dead of regreet to [Page 96]have so ill imployed their time. They put all they have to the quest of that which never was, and burning with de­sire to acquire wealth, they reduce all their owne into cinders, and their lungs also with vehement puffing, with­out gaining other recompence at the end of their labours, but this, now to know their folly:The love of God is the onely Phi­losopher-stone, since by it a man may acquire eter­nall treasures. but the Sun sets, the candle goes out, the bed of buriall is prepared, there must be their Enter at the Exit of so many unprofitable pains. To what purpose serves it now, to know they are fooles, having no more time to be wise.

What cruell Maladie of spirit is it to sacrifice both ones body and soule in an unluckie alymbicke, for to nourish a vaine ambition, whose irregular ap­petite can never be satisfied? Is not this to take pleasure in kindling the fire which consumes us? to burne per­petually with desire of being rich in this world,An inclination toward the mis­prize of Earth, is a presage of the getting of Heaven and yet get nothing by it: And then to burne againe eternally in hell, without possibility to quench the ardour of those revenging flames: is not this to warp ones-selfe the web of a fate, [Page 97]the most miserable that ever was?

Produce we then of nothing the crea­tion of this Philosopher-stone, & grant we it made at present to the hearts of the most ambitious. I am content that from the miracles of this Metamorpho­sis they make us see the marvels of a new gallery of silver, like to that which bare NERO to the Capitoll. I am content that they make pendant at the point of a needle, as SEMIRA­MIS, the price of twenty millions of gold. I am content that after the example ofAtabali, King of Peru. Atabalipas, they pave their halls with Saphirs. I am pleas'd, that imitating Cyrus, they enround their gardens with perches of gold. I am con­tent,The World is aptly compared to the Sea, since as the stormes of this, so are the mi­series of that, and like the flitting billowes ever rolling, so are all the objects which we here admire. that the Dryades of their foun­taines be composed of the same mate­riall, following the magnificences of Cesar. I am content that they erect with Pompey an Amphitheater all cove­red with plates of Gold. I am content they build a Pallace of Ivory, there to to lodge another Melaus, or a Louvre of Christall to receive therein an other Drusus, and let (I am content still) this Louvre be ornamented with court-cup­boards [Page 98]of Pearles equal to those of Scaurus, and with coffers of the same price as that of Darius. To what will all this come to in the end? What may be the reverse of all these medals? The scortching heat of Time, and the Suns-beames have melted this galle­ry of silver, its admirers are vanisht, and its proprietary. Even Rome it selfe hath runne the like fate, and though it subsist yet, 'tis but onely in name, its ruines mourne at this day the death of its glory. That so pretious Pendant of Semiramis could not be exempt from a kind of Death,'Tis a Rule with­out exception, that all that is inclu­ded in the revo­lution of Time, is subject to change. though it were inanimate. I mean that in its insen­sibility, it hath received the attaints of this Vicissitude, which alters and destroyes all things, since it now ap­peares no more to our eyes. All those Saphir-paved halls are passed away, though Art had enchained them in beautifull Workemanships. They have had otherwise a glittering luster, like the Sunne; but this Planet jealous of them, hath refused in the end its clearenesse, so much as to their ruines; insomuch that they are vanished in ob­scuritie. [Page 99]These gardens environed with railes of gold, have had (like others) divers Spring-times, to renew their growth, but one Winter alone was enough to make them dye. Those Dryades which enricht these fountaines are fled upon their owne water-trils, and scarce remaines us their remem­brance. That proud Amphitheater of Pompey could not eternize it selfe, but in the memory of men, & yet we scarce know what they say, when they speake on't. That Ivory Palace of Melaus goes for a fable in histories, being buried in the Abisses of non-entitie. That fa­mous Louvre of Christall having been bustled against by Time is broken,Meditate here a little, how oft the face of the Earth hath been varied since its first crea­tion. and shivered into so many peeces, that not so much as the very dust on't sub­sists, but in the confus'd Idea of things, which have beene otherwhile. All those high cup-boards of Pearle, and all those coffers of great price have indeed had an appearance like light­ning, but the thunder-bolt of inconstan­cy hath reduc't them into ashes, and the memory of 'em is preserv'd in ours, but as a dreame, since in effect it is no more at all.

[Page 100] But if the precious wonders of past Ages,There is nothing so certaine in the world, as its un­certaintie. have done nothing but passe a­way together, with their admirers and owners, is it not credible, that those co­vetous rich ones, did runne the same fortune with all the treasures of their Philosopher-Stone, and at the end of their Carreere, what device could they take but this very same of SALADINE, since of all their riches, there remaines them at their Death, but onely a poore Shirt, Fui, & nibil ampliu I have beene, saies this great Mo­narch, and behold, heere's all.

Why, Rich-ones of the World, doe you trouble your selves so much, to e­stablish your glory here below, for to perswadeus at the end of the journall onely this, That you have beene? An a­tome has the same advantage, for this creating power, which we adore, after he had ta'en it out of the Abysses of nothing, wherein you also were buried, made it to subsist in nature. Yet thus is it a blessednesse of our condition, thus to escape by little and little the mi­scries which are incident unto us. Bee it that you have beene the greatest on Earth, yet now the faire light of your faire dayes, is extin­guish't for ever. The Sun of your glory is eclips't, and in an eternall West. And that your fate which interloomed the web of [Page 101]your greatnesses, together with your lives, lyes entomb'd with your Ashes, to shew us that these are the onely un­hallowed reliques which your Ambition could leave us.

You have bin then otherwhile the only Minions of Fortune, like Demetrius, but he and you are now no more any thing, not so much as a hand full of Ashes; for lesse then with an Infinite power, 'twere impossible to any, to reunite into a bo­dy, the parcels of the Dust, whereof your Carkasses were formed, behold in what consists at this day, the foundation of your past glory.

You have bin then otherwhile the same as SALADINE, the onely Monarch of the East, and have possest (as he) treasures without number, and honours without parallel:If vertue eter­nize not our me­morie, our life passeth away like the wind, without leaving any trace. But (as He) also you have done nothing else but passe away, and like him againe you have not beene able to hide your wretchednesse, but under a Scrap of Linnen, whereof the Wormes have repasted, to manifest you to all the World.

In fine, you have beene otherwhile the wonders of our dayes, but now you [Page 102]are the horrour of this present, for the onely thought of the dung-heap of your Ashes poysons my spirit, so delicate i'st, and I leave farther provocation to the incredulous, if they bee willing to bee stronger witnesses of it, but let us now leave personall reflections, and trou­ble wee not the repose of Church-yardes.

I grant that you may bee at this in­stant that I speake unto you, so rich and happy,He which esteems himselfe rich and happy in this world, knowes not the nature of worldly happi­nesse and riches. that you cannot wish more of Fortune, nor Shee able to offer you more: Yet thus ought you to consider where you are, who you are, and what are the goods which you possesse. You are in the World, where all things fly away, and 'tis in this way of flying away, that you read these verities: my meaning is, you dwell upon the same earth, whereof you are formed, and consequently you lodge upon your buriall-places, whose entrances will be open at all moments. To say who you are, I am ashamed, in calling you by your proper names, for to remembrance you your miseries: Corruption conceaves you, Horrour in­fants you, Blood nourishes you, and in­fection accompanyes you in the Coffin. [Page 103]The treasures which you enjoy are but Chimeras of greatnesse and apparitions of glory, whereof living you make ex­periment, and dying you perfectly know the truth on't.

There is nothing so constantly pre­sent with us, as our miseries, since alwayes we are miserable e­nough at best.To what end then can stead you your present felicities, since at present you scarce enjoy them at all? for even at this very instant another, which is but newly upon passe, robs you of part of them; and even thus giving you hint of the cosenage of his companions, Cheates you too, as well as they; and thus they doe altogether to your lives, as well as your contentments; in ra­vishing these, they intraine the others: then what remonstrance can you exhi­bit of esteeming your selves happy for past felicities, and which you have not enjoyed but in way of depart? And if this condition be agreeable unto you, still there is a necessity of setting up your rest at the end of the carreere, and there it is, where I attend to contribute to your vaine waylings, as many re­sentments of Pity. Take wee another tracke, without loosing our selves.

How ingenious was that famous [Page 104]Queene of Egypt, to deceive with good grace her Lover. How much better is it to be so happy in fishing, as to angle for grace in the teares of penitence? She caused un­derhand dead fishes to be ensnared to the hooke of Antonie, as often as the toy tooke him to goe a fishing; to the end to make him some sport by those pleasant deceits. May we not say that Ambition doth the same? for when wee cast our hookes into this vast Ocean of the vanities of the world, wee fish but Dead things without soule, whose ac­quirement countervailes not a mo­ment of the Time, which we employ to attaine it.

Had I all the goodliest fardles of the world laded on my backe; I meane, had I acquir'd all the honours, where­with fortune can tickle an ambitious soule, should I thence become greater of body? my growing time is past. would my Spirit thence become more excellent?'Tis to no purpose to be passionate for such goods as a man may loose, and the world can give no better. these objects are too weake to ennoble her Powers. Should I thence become more vertuous? Vertue looks for no satisfaction out of it selfe. Should I thence be more esteemed of the world? This is but the glory of a wind, which doth but passe away. [Page 105]What happinesse, what contentment, or what utility, would remaine me then, that I might be at rest? A Man must not suffer himself thus to be fool'd. All honours can be but a burden to an innocent soule, for so much as they are continuall objects of vanity, which stirre up the passions, and onely serve but for nourishment to them in their violences, to hurry them into all sorts of extremities. And after all, the ne­cessitie of dying, which makes an inse­parable accident in our condition, gloomes the glittering of all this vaine glory, which environs us. In the an­guishes of Death, a man dreames not of the grandeurs of his life, and being ever and anon upon point to depart, finds himselfe often afflicted most with those good things which hee possesseth, 'Tis an irbosome remembrance of past happinesse. measuring already the depth of the fall by the height of the place, whi­ther he is exalted.

Galba.Hee which found Fortune at his gate, found no naile to stay her wheele: But if Shee on the one side takes a plea­sure to ruine Empires, to destroy Realmes, and to precipitate her fa­vourites: [Page 106] Death on the other side par­dons no body, alters the temperament of all sorts of humours, perverts the order of every kind of habitude, and not content yet to beate downe all these great Colosses of Vanitie, which would be ta'en for the worlds wonders, calls to the sharing of their ruine the elements, thus to bury their materials in their first abysses, where she hath designed the place of their entombe­ment.

All things passe away, and by their way tell us that we must doe so too.What can a Man then find Constant in the world, where Constancy doth no where reside? Time, Fortune, Death, our Passions, and a Thousand other stum­bling blocks shall never speake other language to us but of our miseries, and yet wee will suffer our selves like A. LEXANDER to be voyc'd immor­tall. Our prosperities, our grandeurs, our very delights themselves, shall tell us, as they passe, a word in our eare, that wee ought not to trust them, and yet for all this, we will never sigh but after them. Be it then at last for very regreet, to have vented to the wind so many vain sighs, for Chimeras of sweets [Page 107]whereof the remembrance can not be but full of bitternesse.

no securitie of pleasure, to enjoy such things as may every mo­ment be lost. Vaine honours of the world, tempt me no more: your allurements are power­full, but too weake to vanquish me. I deride your wreaths of Laurell, there grows more on't in my garden then you can give me. If you offer me esteeme, and reputation among men, what should I doe with your presents? Time devoures every day the like of them, and yet more precious. I undervalue all such Good-things, as It can take away againe from me.

Deceitfull greatnesses of the Earth, cease to pursue me, you shall never catch me, your charmes have given some hits to my heart, but not to my soule, your sweets have touch't my senses, but not my spirit; what have you to offer me, which can satisfie me? Time and For­tune lend you all the Scepters and Crownes which you borrow, Worldly Great­nesses are but like Masking-clothes, which serve him and t [...] other but for that time. and as you are not the owners, they take them away againe when they will, and not when it pleaseth you. So then, I will have no Scepters for an houre, nor no Crownes for a day. If I have desire to [Page 108]raigne, 'tis beyond Time, that I may thus be under shelter from the inconstancy of Ages. Trouble not your selves to follow me. This world is a Masse of mir [...], upon which a Man may make im­presse of all sorts of Characters, but not hinder Time to deface the draught at any time. Ambitious Spirits, faire leave have you to draw the Stell of your designes upon this ready prim'd cloth: Some few yeeres wipe out all. Some ages carry away all, and the re­membrance of your follyes is only im­mortall in your soules, by the eternall regreet which remaines you of them.

SCIPIO made designe to con­quer Carthage, and after he had cast the project thereof upon mould, he after­wards tooke the body of this shadow, and saw the effect of his desires: But may not one say, that the Trophies of his valour have beene cast in rubbidge within that masse of durt, whereof the world is composed, since all the marks thereof are effaced? Carthage it selfe though it never had life, could not avoyd its Death. Time hath buried it so deep under its owne ruines, that we [Page 109]seeke in vaine the place of its Tombe. I leave you to ruminate, if its subduer were himselfe able to resist the assaults of this Tyrannie.

If ALEXANDER had sent his thoughts into heaven, there to seeke a new world, as well as his desires on earth there to find one, he had not lost his time; but as he did amuze himselfe to engrave the history of his ambition and triumphs upon the same masse of clay, which he had conquered; he writ upon water, and all the characters on't are defaced. The Realmes which hee subdued,There is more glo­ry to despise the world, then to conquer it: for after its conquest, a man knewes not what to doe with it. have lost some of them their names, and of this Triumpher there re­maines us but the Idea as of a Dreame, since men are ready to require Security, even of his Memorie, for the wonders which it preacheth to us of him.

May wee not then againe justly avow, that of all the conditions, to which a man may be advanced with­out the ayde of vertue, either by nature or Fortune, there is none more infor­tunate, then to be to these a favorite, nor any more miserable, then to be a Great-one? This inconstant Goddesse [Page 110]hath a thousand favours to lend,All those who en­gage themselves to the service of fortune, are ill payd; and of this, every day gives us experi­ [...]. but to give, none but haltars, poysons, po­niards, and precipices. 'Tis a fine thing to see Hannibal begging his bread even in view of Scipio, after he had cal'd into question the price of the worlds Empire-dome. Is it not an object worthy of compassion, to consider Nicias upon his knees before Gillippus, to beg his owne and the Athenians lives, after he had in a manner commanded the winds at Sea, and Fortune ashore, in a govern­ment soveraignly absolute? Who will not have the same resentiments of pity, reading the history of Crassus, then whē by excesse of disaster he surviv'd both his glory & reputation, being constrai­ned to assist at the funerals of his owne renowne,All those who hound after fortune, are well pleased to be deceived, since her deceits are so well knowne. and undergoe the hard condi­tions of his enemies, attending death to free him from servitude? Will you have no regreet, to see enslav'd under the tyrannie of the Kings of Egypt, the great Agesilaus, whose valour was the onely wonder of his Time? What will you say to the deplorable Fate of Cu­menes, to whom Fortune having offered so often Empires, gives him nothing [Page 111]in the end but chaines, so to dye in captivitie?

You see at what price Men have bought the favours of this Goddesse, when many times the serenity of a hap­py life produceth the storme of an un­fortunate Death. You may judge also at the same time, of what Nature are these heights of honour, when often the Greatest at Sun-rise, find themselves at the end of the Day, the most misera­ble. And suppose Fortune meddle not with 'em, to what extremitie of mi­serie thinke you is a man reduc't at the houre of his departure? All his Gran­deurs, though yet present, are but as past felicities, he enjoyes no more the goods which he possesses, griefes only appertaine to him in proper, and of what magnificences so'ere hee is envi­roned, this object showes him but the image of a funerall pompe,I wonder not if rich men be a­fraid of death, since to them it is more dreadfull then to any. his bed already Emblemes the Sepulcher, the sheets his winding linnen, wherein he must be inveloped. So that if he yet conceit himselfe Great, 'tis one­ly in misery. Since all that hee sees, heares, touches, smells, and tasts, [Page 112]sensibly perswades him nothing else.

Give Resurrection in your thoughts, to great Alexander, and then againe conceive him at last gaspe, and now consider in this deplorable estate, wherein hee finds himselfe involv'd upon his funerall couch, to what can stead him all the grandeurs of his life past, they being also past with it. I grant that all the Earth be his:Fortune sells every day the glory of the world to any that will, but none but fooles are her chap-men. yet you see how the little load of that of his body weighs so heavy on his soule, that it is upon point to fall groveling under the burden. I grant that all the glory of the world belong to him in proper, hee enjoyes nothing but his miseries. I yeeld moreover, that all Mankind may be his subjects: yet this absolute soveraignety, is not exempt from the servitude of payne. Be it, that with the onely thunder of his voyce he makes the Earth to tremble: yet he himselfe cannot hold from sha­king at the noyse of his owne sighs. I grant in fine, that all the Kings of the world render him homage: yet hee is still the tributary of Death.

O grandeurs! since you fly away with­out [Page 113]cease,Omnis motus tendit ad quie­tem. what are you but a little wind? and should I be an Idolater of a litle tossed Ayre, and which only moves but to vanish to its repose?

O greatnesses! since you doe but passe away, what name should I give you but that of a dreame? Alas, why should I passe my life in your pursuite, still dreaming after you?

O worldly greatnesses, since you bid Adieu to all the world, without being able to stay your selves one onely mo­ment; Adieu then, your allurements have none for me, your sweets are bit­ter to my taste, and your pleasures af­ford me none. I cannot runne after that which flyes:Worldly Great­nesses are but childrens trifles, every wise man despises them. I can have no love for things which passe away; and since the world hath nothing else, 'tis a long while that I have bidden adieu to it. It had promi­sed me much, and though it had given me nothing, yet cannot I reproach it, finding my selfe yet too rich by reason of its hardnesse. But I returne to the point.

Men of the World would perswade us, that it is impossible to finde any quiet in it, to say, a firme settling of [Page 114]Spirit,The onely meanes to be content, is to settle the consci­ence in peace. wherein a man may be content in his condition, without ever wishing any other thing. And for my part, I judge nothing to be more easie, if wee leave to reason its absolute power. What impossibilitie can there be, to regulate a mans will to God's? And what contradiction in't, to live upon earth of the pure benedictions of heaven? What greater Riches can a man wish then this, to be able to under­goe the Decrees of his Fate, without mur­muring and complaint? If Riches con­sisted onely in Gold, Diamonds, Pearles, or such like things, of like raritie, those which have not of 'em, might count themselves miserable. But every man carryes his treasure in his conscience. Hee which lives with­out just scandall, lives happily; and who can complaine of a happy life?

Riches are of use to humane life, but not of necessitie, for without them a man may live content.But if to have the hap of these feli­cities of this life, a man judge pre­sently, that hee ought of necessity to have a great number of riches: This is to enslave himselfe to his owne opini­on, abounding in his proper sense, and condemning reason for being of the [Page 115]contrary part. I know well that a man is naturally swayed to love himselfe more then all things of the world,Philautia. & that this love proceeds from the passion of our interests, seeking with much care and paine, all that may contribute to our contentments; and whereas Riches seeme to be Nurses of them, this con­sequence is incident to be drawne, that without them is no contented living. But at first dash, it is necessary to di­stinguish this love into Naturall and Brutall, and beleeve, that with the illu­mination of reason,When Reason reignes, the passi­ons obey. wee may purifie the relishes of the first, even to the point of rendring them innocent, without departing from our interests, and consequently the enjoyment of our pleasures, giving them for ob­ject, the establishment of our setled content, in misprision of all those things of the world, which may de­stroy it.

As for this brutish Love, which e­stranging us from God, separates us also from our selves; the passion of it becomes so strong by our weaknesse, that without a speciall grace wee grow [Page 116]old in this maladie of Spirit, of con­tenting our Senses, rather then obeying our Reason, making a new God of the Treasures of the Earth. But in conclu­sion, these Gods abandon our bodies to the Wormes, and our soules to the De­vils. And for all their riches, the greates [...] Great ones can onely purchase a glorious Sepulture. Is not this a great advan­tage, and a goodly consolation?

He whose will submits to Gods will, lives ever content.Maintaine we boldly, that a man may finde quietnesse of life in all sorts o [...] condition, with the onely richenesse of [...] ­tractable Soule, resign'd to take the time as it comes, and as God sends it, without ever arguing with his provi­dence. There is no affliction,The Spirit of a Man will beare his infirmitie. whereto our Soule cannot give us asswage. There is no ill whereto it selfe is not capable to furnish us a remedie. A man, how miserable somever, may finde his con­tentment amidst his miseries, if he lives for his soule more then for his bodies behalfe. God makes us to be borne where he will, and of what Parents hee pleases: if the poorenesse of our birth accompanie us even to death, hee hath so ordained it; what can wee else doe, [Page 117]but let him so doe? Can he be accoun­ted miserable, that obey's with good grace his soveraignes decrees?

'Tis a greater danger to be very rich, then very poore: for ri­ches often make men loose their way, but pover­tie keepes 'em in the streight path.O, how is it farre more easie to un­dergoe the burthen of much povertie, then of great riches! For a man ex­tremely poore, is troubled with no thoughts more important, then onely how to finde meanes to passe his life in the austerities whereto hee is alreadie habituated, without repining after o­ther fortune, as being estranged equally both from his knowledge and reach; in which respects, hee may well be stil'd happie. But a man very rich, dreames of nothing but to eternize the continuance of his dayes (although this fancie be in vaine) in stead of letting them qui­etly slide away; insomuch, that being possest with no passion more then love of life, hee thinkes alwayes to live, and never to die.Death cannot be said to deceive any body, for it is infallible, and yet the world com­plaines of it. But Death comes ere hee thinks on't, and taking from him all to his very Shirt, constraines him to con­fesse, that riches are onely profitable by misprision, since by the contempt a man makes of them, he may become the ri­chest of the world.

[Page 118] O what a sensible pleasure 'tis to be Rich, say wordly men alwayes! but I would faine know, in what consists this contentment? what satisfaction can there be had to possesse much treasure, knowing what an infinit number of our companions are reduc'd to the last point of povertie? Some in Hospi­tals, where they lye in straw, o'rewhel­med with a thousand fresh griefes. Others at the corner of a street, where a piece of a Dung-hill serves them at once, both for bed and board. Some againe in Dangeons, where horrour and affright, hunger and despaire ty­rannize equally over their unfortunate spirits. And others in some Desert, to which ill fate has confined them, to make their ills remedilesse, as being farre removed from all sorts of suc­cours.There is no emp­tinesse in nature, for miseries fill all. How with the knowledge of these truths, a man shall be able to re­lish greedily the vaine sweets of word­ly riches, it must needs be for want of reason or pity, and consequently to be altogether brutish or insensible. I shall have (suppose) a hundred thousand crownes in rents, and all this revenue [Page 119]shall serve but to nourish my body and its pleasures, without considering, that a hundred thousand poore soules sigh under the heavy burden of their mise­ries every Day: and yet men shall esteeme me happy in being rich in this fate. O how dangerous are the treasures, which produce these felicities!

'Tis a brave ge­nerositie, to be sensible of other mens miseries.Is it possible, that the Great-ones of the world doe not thinke at all in the middle of their Feasts, of the extreame poverty of an infinite number of per­sons, and that in themselves they doe not reason secretly in this sort. What? in this instant that we satiate the appe­tite of our senses, with all that Nature hath produced most delicious for their entertaine; a million and many more poore soules, are reduced to this extremitie, as not to have one onely crumme of bread. And in this serious thought what relish can they find in their best-cook'd cates, and in their swee­test condiment? does not this impor­tant consideration, mingle a little bit­ternesse? But if their spirits estrange themselves from these meditations, and fasten to objects more agreeable. [Page 120]O how hard of digestion is the second service of their collation! Hee which cannot love his neighbour, ha's no love for himselfe.

To speake ingenuously, every time when I consider in that condition, exempt from want, wherein God hath given me birth, and wherein his good­nesse (which is no other then him­selfe) keeps me still alive. I say, when I consider the misery to which the greatest part of the world is reduced, I cannot be weary of blessing this ado­rable Providence,All in God is adorable, and all incomprehensible; we must then adore, and be silent. which grants me to see from the haven, the tempests where­in so many spirits are tossed: which grace to me alone (me thinks) is all extraordinary to see my selfe under shelter, from so many evils, wherewith so many persons are afflicted. By what meanes could I deserve, before the Cre­ation of all things, that this soveraigne Creator should designe mee from the Abysses of nothing, to give me Being, and a being moreover of grace, making me to be borne in a Golden age, in a Christian Kingdome, and in a City of the Catholike Faith, for to be instructed and [Page 121]brought up as I have beene in the only Religion, wherein a man may find his Salvation? and with all these benefits, moreover, to elevate me above the temptations of poverty and misery.

Are not these most pure favours, which would require of this Eternall ONE, (who hath bestowed them me) the tearme of an Eternity, that I might be able to arrive to some small con­digne acknowledgement of them? The most miserable wretch of the world, wherein did he differ from me in way of merit of some portion of these fa­vours, which he possesseth not; since that before time was, hee and I were nothing at all, and yet from all eterni­tie God hath bestowed these things on me in precedencie, rather then on him? At least (say I) it did behoove me, that since the first moment, I was capable of reason; I had employed all those of my life past in the continuall meditation of so many, and so great benefits, whereof to reach the reason, 'twere to find the bottomes of the Abysses of this infinite mercy, to which I remaine infinitely indebted? [Page 122]And comming to the point, ought not I in this preheminence of mine con­tribute all my power to the succour of him,The neerest way from Earth to Heaven, is by Charitie. who enjoyeth not my happinesse, to the end, thus to deserve in a man­ner, some partie of them under the fa­vour of merits from this great God, who onely gives reward to those good actions, which he makes me doe. Can I refuse to be charitable to him, who onely begges some good of me, but to render me worthy of that, which I have received from heaven? I shall have all things to my wish amidst my plea­sures, when Death it selfe is deafe to his plaints, in extremitie of his paines: And shall not I give him some sort of consolation, either in good office, or in pity, being thereunto obliged by yet more powerfull reasons?

Earthly great­nesse is the least gift of Heaven. Great-ones of the World, you are more miserable then these miserable-ones, even in the mid'st of your feli­cities, if the recite of their evils give you not some touch. You have riches more then they, but God hath given you these, but to cheere their pover­ty. As well also, though they now are [Page 123]yours, shall they take leave of you, at the Even of your depart, and if of them you carry any thing away, it shall be onely the interests of that which you have lent these Poore-ones.

Great worldly-ones, how is your fate worthy of compassion rather then En­vie, if you have no other Paradise then your riches?

Grandees of the World, how soone will the source of your contentments dry up, if onely your treasures give it spring-head?

He whose hopes are onely on the world, must needs at last despaire. Great Worldly-ones! of how short en­durance shall be your prosperities, though an Age should bee limit to their course, since at the end of that tearme you must dye eternally, and dye in a paine alwayes living. Suggest to your selves often these importan­cies. Visit and turne over the leafe, to reade more of them.

When I consider the great number of Emperours, Kings, Princes, and Lords, which have governed the World, and the Battels which they have given for its conquests, since the moment of its creation, I remaine all amaz'd, nor [Page 124]able to find bounds nor measure in this amuzement.Houres, Dayes, Yeares, and Ages may well be diffe­rent, but the world is still the same. How many severall Ma­sters may a man imagine then, that the World hath had? and how many times conquered, dividing it into divers Em­pires, Kingdomes, and Lordships? Well, yet the World hath still remai­ned the same, and in the same place still: but its Emperours, Kings, Prin­ces, and Lords, are vanished away, one at the heeles of other, and all their con­quests have served them only as matter of Passe-time, since all their combats and battels, have had no other price of Victory, but upon the same earth, where their glories, and bodyes re­maine together enterred.

O goodly childish sport, to amuze themselves about conquering some little point within the limits, where­with the Universe is bounded! Ask but Alexander what hee hath done with the bootyes of his Conquest. When he had ta'en away all, he had yet nothing, and of himselfe now remaines there nothing at all. Ambition, behold the reverse of thy Medall.

LORD, Preserve to me alwayes, [Page 125](if it please thee) this humour where­in I now finde my selfe,Why should any love the world, which deceives all that trust in't? to misprize all the things of the world, and It too with passion. Give me a heart wave­ring and inconstant, to this end, that it may uncessantly change from all worldly Love, till it be subjected to the sweet Empire of thy Love. Render, render evermore my spirit unquiet, un­till that it hath found its repose in thee alone, the foundations of such a rest are unremoveable. I will give for no­thing all my pretentions on earth, for thereto pretend I nothing at all. Hea­ven onely is my marke and ayme. Now you shall see soone the end of the Chap­ter.

How was it possible that the glory of those brave Romanes of former time, could any way arrive to that point (though they aym'd it) where­to the renowne of Rome it selfe could never attaine? What a folly was it,These wise world­ly ones have had no other recom­pence of their folly, but such a blast of Fames Trump. that they sought immortality amid'st this inconstancy of Ages, where Death onely was in his Kingdome, for they assisted every day, at the funerall of their renowned companions, and after [Page 126]they had seen their bodyes reduced into ashes, they might with the same eye, moreover, contemplate their shadows, I meane their statues, metamorphosed into dust, and all their reputation served but as a wind to beare them away into an infinity of Abysses, since as a Wind, being nothing else, it flyes away with these heapes of ruine, so farre both from the eye, and all memory, that in the end, there is no more thought on't.

In effect, all these great men of the World did see buried every moment the hope of this vaine glory, whereof their ambition was alwayes labouring to make acquist; and yet not one of them for all this, stept backe; as if they tooke a pride in their vanities, and the folly of them were hereditary.Ambition never elevates, but to give a greater fall. CAESAR had seene the death of Pompey, and with him all the glory of his renowne, and Pompey had seene buried in the tombe of Time, and Oblivion, the renowne of that great Scipio, whose valour more redoubted then the thunder had made the Earth tremble so oft. Scipio in his turne might have read the Epitaph, which despaire, shame, and disaster had graven in letters [Page 127]of Gold upon the Sepulture of Hanni­bal, and Hannibal might have learn't to know by the unconstancy of the Age, wherein he liv'd, before he made experi­ment of them, the mis-fortunes, and mi­series, which are inseparable to our con­dition. And yet notwithstanding, all of them have stumbled one after other, upon one and the same Stumbling-stone.

The richest of the world at last is found as poore as the poorest com­panion.I am not come into Persia, for the conquest of treasures, said Alexander to Parmenio: take thou all the riches, and leave mee all the glory: but after good calculation, neither of them both had a­ny thing at all. These riches remained in the world still, to which they pro­perly appertained, and this vaine-glory saw its lover dye, without it selfe being seene. Insomuch that after so great con­quests, the wormes have conquered this great Monarch, and as the dunghill of his ashes ha's no sort of correspondence with this so famous name of Alexander, which otherwhile he bore, tis not to be said, what he hath beene, seeing what he is now, I meane his present wretched­nesses efface every day the memory of his past greatnesses.

[Page 128] Ambitious spirits, though you should conquer a thousand worlds, as hee did this one, you should not be a whit rich­er for all these conquests. The Earth is still as it was, it never changes nature. All her honours are not worth one teare of repentance: all its glory is not to bee prized with one sigh of contrition. I grant that the noise of your renowne may resound through the foure corners of the Universe: That of SALADINE which went round it all, could not ex­empt him from the mishaps of life, nor miseries of Death. After he had encof­fered all the riches of the East, yet findes he himselfe so poore for all that, hardly can he take along with him so much as a Shirt.

Embalme then the Aire which you breathe, with a thousand Odours, bee Served in Plate of Gold, Lye in Ivory, Swimme in Honours, and lastly, let all your acti­ons glitter with magnificence; the last moment of your life shall bee judge of all those,'Tis the greatest horror of death, to render account of all the mo­ments of life. which have preceded it: then shall you be able at your Death, to tel me the worth of this vaine glory, whereof you have beene Idolaters, and after your [Page 129] Death, you shall resent the paines of an eternall regreet, having now no more op­portunity to repent you to any effect.

Beleeve mee, all is but Vanity, Honour, Glory, Riches, Praise, Esteeme, Reputati­on, All this is but smoake during Life, and after Death, nothing at all. The Grands of the world have made a little more noyse then others by the way. But this Noyse is ceas'd, their light is extin­guish't, their memory buried. And if men speake of them sometimes, the an­swer is returned with a shake of the head, intimating no more words of them, since such a Law of silence, Time hath imposed hereon. Seeke your glo­ry in God, and your Honour in the con­tempt of this earthly Honour, if you will eternize your renowne, in the perpetuity of Ages. I have no more to say to you, after these truths.

O How glorious is the Triumph over Death? O how brave is the Victorie over a Mans selfe! You see how this greatAdrian. Mo­narch triumphs to day over that proud Triumpher Death, after the happy van­quishment of his passions. Hee enters into his Empire by the Port of his Tombe, thus to raigne during his life, like a man that dyes every moment; he celebrates himselfe his owne Fune­rals, and is led in Triumph to his Se­pulcher [Page 134]to learne to dye generously. What a glory's this to over-awe That, which commands the whole world? what Courage is this, to assaile and combate That, which none could ever yet resist? and what a power is it to tame That which never yet yeelded? Echo her selfe hath not rebounds enow to resound aloud the wonders of this Victorie.

This is not the Triumph of Alexan­der, when he made his entry into Baby­lon, mounted upon a Chariot as rich as the Indies, and more glistering then the Sunne.

In this we see no other riches, but the rich contempt, which ought to be made of them; no other lustre, but of Vertue.

This is not the Triumph of Caesar then, when he was drawne unto the Ca­pitoll by forty Elephants, after he had wonne twenty foure battels. In this we see nought else but a funerall pompe, but yet so glorious, that Death her selfe serves for a Trophie to it.

This is not the Triumph of Epami­nondas, where the glorious lustre of the [Page 135]magnificence sham'd the splendour of the day, which yet lent its light to it. The marvels which appear'd in this here, seem'd as celebrating in blacke the Exequies of all the other brave­ries of the world, since nothing can be seene more admirable then this.

To triumph over vice, is the no­blest Trophie.This is not the Triumph of Aurelian, where all the graces are led captive with Zenobia. In this are to be seene no other captives but the world, and all its vanities, and their defeat is the richest Crowne of the Victor.

This is not the Triumph of that pompeous Queene of Egypt entring in­to Cilicia, where shee rays'd admira­tion to her selfe in a Galley of unutte­rable value, but in this wee contem­plate the more then humane industrie of a Pilote, who from the mid'st of the stormes and tempests of the world, re­covers happily to the Port, the ship of his life, though yet but in the way to approach to it.

In fine, this is not the Triumph of Sesostris, whose stately Chariot foure Kings drew. Passions are the onely slaves of this, and Death being here [Page 136]vanquisht, this honour remaines im­mortall, and the name of the Trium­pher.

All the glory of men van sheth away with them.Say we then once againe, O how glorious a Triumph is this, over Death! O how brave is the victorie over our selves! and the onely meanes thus to vanquish a mans-selfe, is to bury his ambition before his body be ense­pulchred, preparing ne'rethelesse the tombe of both; to the'nd, that the continuall remembrances of Death, may serve for temperament and mode­ration to the delights of life.

We reade of Paulus Aemilius, that returning to Rome laden with wreaths of Laurell, after the famous victorie over the Persians; he made his entrance of triumph with so great pompe and magnificence, that the Sunne seemed to rouze it selfe many times, as if upon designe to contemplate these won­ders.

Pompey desirous to expose to the view of day, all the magnificent presents, which Fortune had given him in his last conquests, entred now the third time in Triumph into the [Page 137]City of Rome, where the noyse of his valour made as many Idolaters, as ad­mirers, gayning hearts, and now con­quering soules, as well as before Realms and Provinces: But it seemes, that the glory, which accompanyed him in this action had this defect, not to be sufficiently worthily knowne, even of those that were witnesses of it, as sur­prizing by much, all that they could possibly expresse of it.

There was seene advanc't before his Charriot, in ostentation,Vanitie is a dan­gerous enemie, it flatters, onely to surprize. a Checker-worke composed of two sorts of pre­cious stones, whose beauty set them beyond all price: But yet (me thinks) their sparkling might have in good time beene a light to him, if by a fee­ling of fore-sight, touching the incon­stancie of his fortune, hee had cau­sed to have beene graven thereon the historie of his mishaps. There was admired in sequell, a Statue of the Moone, all of Gold, in forme of a Crescent, and I am astonisht, that this Image of change and Vicissi­tude, made him not fore-see the de­turning of the Wheele, I meane the [Page 138]storme, that was to succcede the calme of his happinesse. He caus'd moreover to be caried before him a great number of Vessels of Gold, never thinking that Death might soone replenish some part of them with his ashes. There was seene to follow a Mountaine all of Gold, upon which were all sorts of animals, and many Trees of the same matter, and this mountaine was enrounded with a Vine, whose golden glittering dazled the eyes of all that considered its wonders.Ambition is an incurable disease of the soule, if in good time it be not lookt too. This proud Triumpher was the Orpheus, which to the Lyrick sound of his renowne, attracted this Mountaine, these Animals, these Trees, this Vine. But as Orpheus, so him also, Fortune destinated a Prey to the fury of Bacchinals, I meane the Eu­nuchs which put him to Death. Three Statues of gold, first Iupiters, then Mars, and then of Pallas, came after. These were his Gods and his God­desse: what succours could he expect from these Deities, which had no sub­sistence, but in statue, and the copy of whose portraict had no principall? There was had in admiration more­over, [Page 139]over, thirty Garlands all of gold, and Pearles:A man had need to have an excel­lent memorie, not to forget him­selfe among his honours. but these Crownes were too weighty for his head, from whence it came to passe, that hee fell under the burden. A golden Chappell follow­ed after, dedicated to the Muses, upon which was a great Horologe of the same materials. And as the Index still turned, ought not he to have conside­red, that the houre of his triumphing began to passe away, and that of his overthrow would presently sound, be­ing sequell to the Lawes of that vicis­situde, to which Fate hath subjected all things? His statue of gold enrich't with Diamonds, and Pearles, whereof nor hee himselfe, nor hee that en­wrought them, knew the value, fol­lowed in its course, and in fine, this his shadow, was more happy then the true body, as having never beene scuf­fled with, but by time, and the other was van quisht with miserie. Then ap­peared the great Pompey, seated upon a Throane, where hee and Fortune see­med to give Laws to the whole world, for his Triumphall Charriot was so richly glorious, so magnificent in rari­ties, [Page 140]so splendide in new, and ne're-be­fore-seene wonders, that a ravishment surprized mens spirits, elevating them at once from admiration to extasie, not giving them leasure to make refle­ction upon the present realties.Be it our constant meditation, of the inconstancie to which all worldly things are subjected. But this Triumphall Charriot still roul'd about, and though the Triumpher re­main'd seated in his place, yet his For­tune turned about likewise. Insomuch that in going to the Capitoll, hee ap­proach't by little & little to the bank, where his life and happinesse, were equally enterred.

In fine, for the fulnesse of Glory, These proper names of the conquests, which he had made, were read in gol­den Characters: The Kingdome of Pontus, See Pliny's Nat. Historie, 7 Bock, 26 Chap­ter. Armenia, Cappadocia, Paphlago­nia, Media, Colchis, the Hiberians, the Albanians, Siria, Cilicia, Mesopotamia, Phoenicia, Pride is the pas­sion of fooles: for what a sense­lesnesse is it, to be proud, having so many miseries about us, which are incident to mortall man? Palestina, Iudea, Arabia, and the Rovers of all the Seas. Who can be comparable to this proud Conque­rour? and yet (I say it) having conque­red and subjugated the greatest part of the Earth, Fate permits him not so much, as to expire upon it, and the [Page 141]Sea yet more treacherous, prepares him shipwracke in mid'st of the Port.

What resemblance, and what cor­respondence can there be now, be­tweene this Triumph so sumptuous, so stately, and magnificent, and that, whose presentation I show you, where lowlinesse, humilitie, and miserie hold the first ranke, and possesse the highest places.How poore is the vanitie of men, having no other grounds but hu­mane frailtie? Assuredly the difference is great, but yet this inequalitie here is glorious, since it brings along with it the price of that vertue, whereof Pompey despised the conquest. Hee in his Triumph, rays'd wonder to the beauty of those two great precious stones. But the Sepulchrall Marbles, which appeared in this of ADRIAN, were of another estimate, because Pru­dence values them above all price, putting them to that employment, to which shee had destinated them. Againe, if he expose to view in vessels of gold, Mountaines, Animals, Trees, Vines, Statues of the same matter; This Herse covered with black, which serves for ornament to this Funerall Pompe, containes yet much more [Page 142]treasure, since the contempt of all to­gether is graven therein. Hee makes ostentation of his Statue of gold, en­rich't with Pearles: but our Monarch takes as much glory without them, shewing in his owne bare Portraict, the originall of his miseries. That proud Conquerour had a thousand Garlands and golden Coronets, as a novell Trophy:Except the Crown of Vertue, all other are subject to change. But ours here crownes himselfe with Cypresse during his car­reere of life, to merit those palmes which await him in the end. In fine, Pompey is the Idoll of hearts, and soules, and his Triumphall Chariot serves as an Altar; where he receives the vowes and Sacrifices: But this Prince, in stead of causing Idolaters, during the sway of his Majestie, immolates himselfe up to the view of Heaven, and Earth, dying already in his owne Funerals, and suffering himselfe to be as is were buried by the continuall object, which dwels with him of Death and his Tombe. But if Pompey lastly, boast himselfe to have conquered an infinite number of Realmes, or all the world together:ADRIAN. This Man having never had [Page 143]worse enemies then his passions, hath sought no other glory but to over­come them, and in their defeat, a Man may well be stil'd the Conquerour of Conquerours; for the Coronall wreaths of this Triumph, feare nor the Sunnes extremity, nor the Ages inconstancie. Wee must passe on far­ther.

All the objects of Vanitie are so many enemies, against which we ought to be al­wayes in armes. Isidore, and Tranquillus, doe assure us, that to carry away the glory of a Triumph, it was necessarily required to vanquish five thousand enemies, or gaine five victories, as it is reported of Caesar. The consent of the Senate was also to be had. And the Conque­rour was to be clothed in Purple, and Crowned with Laurell, holding a Scepter in his hand, and in this sort hee was conducted to the Capitoll of Iupiter, where some famous Ora­tor made a Panegyricke of his prow­esse.

What better Allegory can wee draw from these prophane truths, then this of the Victory, which wee ought to have of our five Senses (as of five thousand enemies) whose defeat is necessary to [Page 144]our triumph.Still to wage warre against our passions, is the way to live in peace. These are the five Victo­ries, which he must gaine, that would acquire such Trophies, whose glory is taken away, neither by time nor Death.

This consent of the Senate is the Au­thority of our reason, which alone gives value and esteeme to our actions, and 'tis of her that we may learne the meanes in obeying her to command over our pas­sions, and by the conquest of this sway, triumph over our selves, which is the bravest Victory of the World.

These Scepters and Crownes are so many markes of Soveraignty, which re­maine us in propriety after subjection of so many fierce enemies, Heaven is the Capitol, whither our good workes con­duct us in triumph, and where the voyce of Angels serves for Oratour to pub­lish the glory of our deedes, whose re­nowne remaines eternall.

'Tis not all, to love Vertue, 'tis the practice.These great Roman Captaines, which made love to vertue, though without perfect knowledge of it, have sought for honour and glory in the overthrow of their enemies, but they could never finde the shadowes of solid Honour, which thus they sought; from whence it came to [Page 145]passe, that they have fashioned to themselves diverse Chimeras, for to re­past their fancy too greedy of these cheating objects. Not that there is no glory in a Conquest: but 'twas their Ambition led them along in Triumph, amidst their owne Trium­phing.

What honour had Caesar borne away, if hee had joyned to his Tro­phies the slavery of Cleopatra? hee had exposed to view a Chaptive-Queene, who otherwhile had subjected him to her Love-dominion. But if the for­tune of the warre had delivered him this Princesse,He triumphs with an ill grace, o're whom his vices triumph. the fate of Love would have given, even himselfe into her hands. Insomuch, that the Death of Cleopatra, immmortaliz'd the renowne of Cesar.

Asdrubal, according to Iustin, trium­phed foure times in Carthage, but this famous Theater of honour, where glory it selfe had appeared so often upon its Throne, serves in conclu­sion for a Trophy to a new Con­querour, insomuch, that it buried at once the renowne, and memory, even [Page 146]of those, that had presented themselves triumphant personages.

To day Memphis is all-Triumphant, and on the morrow this proud Citie is reduced to slaverie. To day the report of its glory, makes the world shake, and on the morrow Travellers seeke for it upon its owne site, but finde it not. O goodly triumph! O fearefull overthrow! What continuall revolution of the Wheele! Marcellus shewes himselfe at point of day upon a magnificent Cha­riot of Triumph, and at Sunne-set his glory and his life finish equally their carreere. I meane, in the twinckling of an eye, Fortune takes away from him all those Laurell-wreaths which shee had given him, and leaves him nothing at his death, but the regreet of having liv'd too-long.

It may be some consolation in all our miseries, to see all else have their changes, as well as we. Marius triumphed diverse times, but with what tempests was the Ship of his fortune entertained? Behold him now elevated upon the highest Throne of Honour; but if you turne but your head, you shall see him all naked in his shirt, halfe-buried under the mire of a com­mon Sinke, where the light of the day [Page 147]troubles him, not being able to endure the Sunne, a witnesse of his misfortunes. Behold him first, I say, in all abundance of Greatnesse, and Soveraigntie, whereof the splendour dazles the world; but stay a little, and you shall heare pronounc'd the sentence of his death, being abando­ned even of himselfe, having no more hope of safetie.

How pompeous and celebrious was the Triumph of Lucullus? In which, hee rais'd admiration to the magnifi­cence of an hundred Gallyes all-armed in the Prow; a thousand Chariots, char­ged with Pikes, Halberts, and Corse­lets, whose shocking rumbles sounded so high, it frighted the admirers, though they celebrated the Festivall of the Victorie. The number of Vessels of Gold, and other Ornaments of the Tri­umph, was without number. The Statue of Mithridates also of Gold, six foot high, with the Target all covered with precious Stones, serv'd anew to the Tri­umph. And of this Glory all the world together was an adorer, for the renowne of the Conquerour had diverse times sur­rounded the Vniverse.

[Page 148] But, what shame after so much glory! What infamie after so great honour! Lucullus, Great Men cannot commit little faulis. victorious over so many Em­pires, is found in fine subjected under the dominion of his pleasures: his valour ha's made many slaves every where, and yet his sottishnesse renders him in the end slave to his owne passions. Insomuch, that after hee had exalted the splendour of Rome's beautie, by his brave actions, worthy-admiration, he againe blouzeth it's lustre by his excessive deboshes, all blacke with vice. And now 'tis in vaine to seeke for Lucullus triumphant, since hee is onely to be found overthrowne in reputation, in which hee survives; thus rendring himselfe doubly mise­rable.

Plutarchus in Apophtheg. Reg. & Imp. Tristis sollicitus (que) circumivit urbem.Wee reade of Epaminondas, that re­turning victorious from the Leuctrians hee received with regreet the Present o [...] the honour of Triumph, which the Senat [...] had prepared him, apprehending evermore the deturne of the Wheele: so tha [...] the next morrow after the Festivall, he [...] tooke on him mourning habit, to prepar [...] himselfe betimes to suffer the change o [...] his fortune.

[Page 149] It is remark't in the history of De­metrius, that entring in Triumph into Athens, the people cast flowers, and an infinite number of golden Globes up and downe the streets,We are but as so many flowers planted by Na­ture in the Gar­den of the Earth, and onely Death gathers us. for a signe of a sumptuous congratulation. But what signe of Vicissitude and frailty, could there be more apparent, then this, which these flowers represented, since there is nothing more fraile in Nature then they? And these balles shewed also by their round, and still rouling figure, that the Glory where­of they were the symbole, and Hiero­glyphicke, could not be firme, and sta­ble according as Truth it selfe soone after publish't by a sudden change, which rendred the fate of this Victor deplorable.

Consider a little upon the same sub­ject, what revolutions has the Ball of Empire, made since the first Monarch, let it fall at his Death. Is it not credi­ble,In like respect also we are as Bowles, for still we rowle along to the Grave. that it hath runne over diverse times the circuit of the Universe, and its figure instructs us, that in the in­constancy which is proper to all crea­ted things, it will still rowle inces­santly [Page 150]from one to another, without ever staying, since its Center is no where at all? For so long as the world shall endure, a continuall vicissitude will be its foundation. And what meanes can there be to find a seat upon the earth, which may be sheltered from inconstancy, which raignes soveraign­ly and necessarily, as essentiall to all whatsomever subsists here below? I have not beene farre, behold mee upon returne.

Tertullian assures us, that in the Triumphs of the Romans, there was a man waged to cry aloud to the Triumpher,

Remember thou art a Man.

Worldly honours are so many temp­tations, to make us idolatrize our selves. Plinie passeth farther yet, and tells us, that they were accustomed to put an iron ring upon the Conquerors finger, in signe of servitude, as if silently to in­timate unto him, that he was besides himselfe, by an excesse of vanity in this amplitude of honour, wherein he saw himselfe elevated above his compa­nions. And upon the same subject, a great number of Historians doe adde, that about the Charriot of the Trium­pher, [Page 151]there were two men assigned, the one carrying a Deaths-head, the other the Image of a Peacocke, and both con­tinually crying,

REMEMBER THAT THOV ART A MAN. Vanitie is a dan­gerous enemie, since it betrayes us while it seemes to oblige us, by the complacence which it gives us.

Certainely, Vanity makes great Prize of us, then when we are elevated to some eminent degree of honour. And though our heads be but as of dead-mens, for wee are dying unces­santly, and our miseries resemble us to those Images of Peacockes, which cannot beare up traine, but upon ugly Feete: Yet our Blindnesse is so great, and this Selfe-love so extreame, that men are dazled with too much Splendour, and a Man becomes slave to himselfe by loving himselfe with too much passion. Greatnesse and prosperitie never let themselves be pos­sest, but to take greater possession of us. And as they have allurements to charme us, and sweets to ravish us, a Man had need implore the succour of Divine grace, if hee would escape their [Page 152]pleasing tyrannie, and nothing but flight from them, or contempt, can give us weapons to resist them. Let us still returne to the point.

We reade of Iudas Machabeus, that returning victorious from Galile, the people conducted him to the Temple, by a way all tapistred with flowers. Abraham after hee had van­quished five Kings, was received in Triumph into Salem, now called Hie­rusalem.

Iudith received the honour of Triumph by the destruction of Holo­fernes, and all the people of Bethuli [...] laden with Palme, to make her trium­phall wreaths, cryed out in her favour Behold the glory of Hierusalem, and the joy of all her Nation.

Ioseph shewes himselfe in Triump [...] also upon the Chariot of Pharaoh, Gen. 41.41, 42, &c. wh [...] puts his Royall Ring upon his finger gives him his Chaine of gold, and makes him publikely to be acknow­ledged for the second person of Egypt.

David triumphs o're Goliah, with magnificence worthy of his victory and the Virgins chant to his glory [Page 153]Saul hath kill'd his thousand, 1 Sam. 18.7. and David his ten thousand.

Mordecai also had his turne of Tri­umph, mounted upon the horse of Aha­suerus, and had his prayses Heraldized by Haman, in these termes:Esther 6.11. Thus shall it be done to the man, whom the King will ho­nour.

All these Triumphs are worthy of admiration, I avouch it: but the Triumph over our selves, is worthy astonishment, as having to combate our passions, and consequently the winning'st enemies of the world, I say, the winning'st, or the pleasing'st, since they guard themselves onely with such kind of weapons, whose hurtings makes us often sigh rather for joy then griefe.

Certainely, the Victory of Reason over all the revolted faculties of our [...]oules, merits alone the honour of a Triumph; and what advantage som­ [...]er a man has over his enemies, hee [...]imselfe is yet still vanquisht, if his [...]ices be not subdued. I pursue my de­ [...]gne.

They which have enthronized Vertue [Page 154]in their breasts, have laid their foun­dations upon the ruines of their pas­sions, to testifie to us, that a Man can­not be vertuous with their predomi­nancy. And after essay of diverse meanes upon designe to vanquish them, I have found none more power­full, then this, The Meditation of Death, but if any doubt this, the tryall on't will be profitable for him.

How is it possible that a Man should let himselfe be mastered with the pas­sion of Revenge, if he but muze of that Vengeance, which his sins may draw downe every moment upon his head, as being every houre in estate to dye? Hee shall heare rumble in his eares the thunder of Divine Justice, by the con­tinuall murmur of his sighs, which ad­vertize him of the approaches of Death. What courage can he have to avenge himselfe, being upon point himselfe to suffer the torment of eter­nall vengeance?

Thou that art Vindicative, wilt thou then quench the ardour of thy Chol­ler, feele thine owne pulse, and consider that this pety slow feaver, [Page 155]wherewith thou art stormed, leads thee by little and little into the grave.'Tis more honour for a man to a­venge himselfe of his choler, then of his enemie.

Who can be Ambitious, if mu­sing of Death, since hee must quitt all with his life? Let us ponder a while the fate of those arrogant spirits, which ha' muz'd themselves to conquer the vaine greatnesses of the Earth. What hath beene in fine their share at the end of the carriere? They have had nothing but unprofitable regreets, to have so ill employ'd their time, fin­ding themselves so poore with all their treasure, as if they had beene borne the wreched'st of the world. Thou Ambitious-one, willt thou be cu­red of the disease of thy Passion, think each houre of the day, that that which thou now hearest strike, may be thy Last.

Who would sigh for prophane Love, after these objects of dust, and ashes,Mortall frailtie brings blemish to the fairest visa­ges, and mightily takes from their opinion, being well considered. if he often considered, that hee him­selfe is made of nothing else, and that this noysome and corruptive matter seekaes nothing more, then abysses of the grave, there to hide within its loath somenesse, in effect who would [Page 156]give his flesh a prey to pleasures, if he would consider that the wormes do in expectation, make their fees there­of already. The Meditation of Death, serves for temperament to all sorts of de­lights. And if a Man bee capable of love in this muze, it cannot be other then of his Salvation, since this object is eternall, but all others of the world perishable. Infortunate Lovers search the solace of your immodest passions in the Anatomy of the subject, where­of you are Idolaters. Be assistant at that dead view. Thinke of your owne Death. Behold you are cured.

He which consi­ders of that wret­chednesse which is adjunct to Death, easily mispriseth the riches of this life.What wretched Rich man would be so much in love with his treasures, if he would consider, that Death robs him from them every day, making him dye continually, and that at the end of the terme of his life, hee car­ryes along with him but the good, or the evill which hee hath done, to be either recompenc'd, or punish'd, but with a glory or a punishment, where­of Eternity alone must terminate the continuance? Covetous Misers, the onely meanes for you to be so no [Page 157]more, is to celebrate your owne fune­rals, by your Meditations, and often to consider the Account, not of your riches, but that which you must render one day of their fruition, since your Salvation depends thereon.

Who, in fine, would make a God of his Belly, seeking with passion all the delights, which may tickle the sense of Taste, if he represented to himselfe the miseries of the body, which hee takes so much paines to nourish, and the rigour of those inviolable decrees, which destinate him a prey to the wormes, and the remaines of their lea­vings to rottennesse? This consideration would be capable to make him loose both appetite, and desire, at the same time, to nourrish so delicately his carkasse. O soules all of flesh, repa­sting your selves with nothing else, there is no invention to make you change nature, but this, to Heare your selves dye by the noyse of your sighs, to See your selves dye by the wrinkles which furrow every day upon your vi­sages, and to Feele your selves die by the beatings of your pulse, which indexeth [Page 158]this your hecticke feaver, wherewith you are mortally attainted. This is a Probatum-remedie, the experience there­of is not dangerous.

May not a man then maintaine with much reason, that the thought of Death alone is capable to cure our soules of the disease of their passions in doseing them both the meanes,If a man should forget all things else but the mise­ries of his condi­tion, this last were enough to exercise the vast­est memorie. and the Vertue to triumph over them. But if of this you desire an example, call to mind that, which I have proposed you in the beginning of the Chapter. How marvellous is it that a great Mo­narch, who is able to maintaine all man­ner of pleasure in his heart, with all the delights which accompany it; cele­brates himselfe his Funeralls in the midst of his carriere of life, beginning to raigne at the end of his raigne, since that last object is alwayes present be­fore his eyes. His Passions doe assaile him, but hee vanquisheth them, they give him combate, but he leads them in triumph, and buryes them altoge­ther in the Tombe, which hee prepares himselfe. Consider a little the glory, which is relucent in this action.

[Page 159] We read of the Kings of Arabia, that they triumphed upon Dromeda­ries, the Kings of Persia upon Ele­phants, of Croatia upon Bulls, the Ro­manes upon horses, and yet 'tis remarkt of Nero, that hee made himselfe be drawne in Triumph by foure Herma­phrodite Mares. Camillus by foure white Horses. Marke Antony by foure Lions, Aurelian by foure Hearts, Cae­sar by forty Elephants Heliogabalus by foure Dogges.

Moreover, the Poets doe assure us, that the triumphant Charriot of Bac­chus was drawne by Tygers, Neptunes by Fishes, of Thetis by Dolphins, Diana's by Harts, of Venus by Doves, Iuno's by Peacocks.

All these objects of pompe, and magnificence, whereof histories,This Vanitie is a most contagious maladie, and the onely preser­vative, is the remembrance of Death. and Fables would eternize the vanity, have for all that done nothing but passe away, and though a little remem­brance of 'them stay with us; 'tis but the memoriall of a Chimera, and of a fantosme, since it preaches nothing else to us, but the ruine, and non-en­tity, of that which hath beene other-while [Page 160]O how glorious a Triumph is it,These things ru­minated on, will make us wise. when wee our selves are enchario­ted over our passions now enslaved and subjected under the Empire of Reason? There is nothing so glorious, there is nothing so magnificent: For these Dromedaries, these Elephants, these Bulls, these Horses, these Herma­phrodite Mares, these Lyons, Stags, and Tygres afore-mentioned, are but brute beasts, which draw along in traine af­ter them others as brutish as themselves, as suffering themselves to be transpor­ted with vanitie, which onely reduceth them to this beastly-semblant vanitie. Let us turne our face to another side.

SABELLICUS in his ENNEADS, actively perswades us to beleeve, that the Christians of Aethiopia doe carry in their processions, great vessels full of ashes,Let the fire of Divine Love glow upon our ashes. to emblematize apparently the frailty of our nature. But may not wee say upon too much reason, that wee are earthen vessels full of ashes; and what object more sensibly can be presented before our eyes, to shew us the truth of our miseries, then this of our selves? From Earth is our production, and the [Page 161] same serves us with nourishment, and for sepulture also, as if ashamed the Sunne should afford his light to our wretched­nesse.

Make we then every day Funerall pro­cessions, or at least visit in meditation every houre our Tombe [...], as the place where our bodyes must make so long abode. Celebrate we our selves our owne Funerals, and invite to our exequies,The thought of our end is a so­veraigne reme­die against our passions. Am­bition, Avarice, Pride, Choller, Luxurie, Gluttony, and all the other Passions, where­with we may be attainted, to the end to be Conquerours, even by our owne pro­per defeate: For when a Man yeelds to the Meditation of Death, then reason commands sense; All obey to this ap­prehension of frailty, and feeblenesse. Pleasures by little and little abandon us, the sweets of life seeme sowre, and wee can find no other quiet, but in the hope of that, which Truth it selfe hath pro­mised us, after so much trouble.

Proud Spirits, be ye Spectators of this Funerall Pompe, which this great Monarch celebrates to day: Hee invites the Heaven and the Earth to his Exe­quies, since in their view hee accompa­nies [Page 162]his pourtrayed gkeleton unto the Tombe: his Body conducts thither its shadow, the originall the painted figure in attendance, till a Metamorphosis be made both of one and t'other. O glo­rious action! where the Living takes a pride to appeare Dead, as dying alreadie by his owne choice, as well as necessi­tie. O glorious action! where the Tri­umpher takes a glory in the appearance of his overthrow. O glorious action! where all the honour depends upon the contempt of the worlds honour. O glorious action! where Garlands of Cy­presse dispute the preheminence with Laurell and Palme. O glorious action! where the Conquerour under-going the Lawes of Nature, elevates himselfe above it, making his puissance to be admired, in his voluntarie weakenesse. But I engage my selfe too farre in't.

Herodotus remarkes, that the Queene Semiramis made her Sepulcher be erected upon the entrances of the principall Gate of theBabylon. Citie, to the end, that this sad object of wretchednesse might serve for Schoole-master to passengers, to teach them the Art, to know themselves. [Page 163]O blessed Lesson is that,no better Schoole then the Church-yard. which the Tombes can affoord us! O gracious Science is that, which they instruct us!

Strabo testifies, that the Persians made Pipes of dead-mens bones, which they used at Festivals; to the end, that the sad harmonie which issued thence, might temper the excesse of joy. But may not we say our Lungs to be to us such kind of Whistles, and that our dolorous sighs, which produce thence the harmonie, are capable to moderate the violence of our contentments? A strange thing it is, that all the animated objects, which are af­fected by our senses, beare the image of Death, and yet wee never thinke but of Life. Let our eyes but fairely turne their regards on all sides, All that lives, they may see, dyes; and what ha's no life, passes away before 'em. Our eares are tickled with the sweet harmonie of Voices, or Instruments, or Tabors, or Trumpets: But these sounds are but Or­gans spirited with blasts, whose bor­rowed wind is lost, when the motion ceaseth; and there behold the Faile of their life. And for Instruments, 'tis true they warble delightfully, yet their me­lodie [Page 164]is often dolefull to the mind, The object of our nothingnesse ha's a grace and al­lurement capable to ravish the best spirits. when it considers that it proceedes from cer­taine guts of dead beasts, which Art hath so contrived. Tabors being of the same nature, must also necessarily pro­duce the same effects; and Trumpets also doe but sobbe in our eares, since their clangor is forced onely by the vio­lence of a blast of sighs: Our Taste can­not satiate the hunger of its appetite, but with dead and breathlesse things: and all our other senses are subject to the same necessitie. Insomuch, that Death environs us on all sides, though we be alwayes her owne, and yet wee never thinke on't, Death is ever present, and at hand, to our heart, but still absent from our memorie. but in extremities: as if wee were onely to learne at the last instant, that wee are Mortall, and the hard experience which wee make on't, were the onely Lesson, which by Nature is given us.

LORD render me capable, if it please thee, of this Science, which may effectu­ally teach me the Art, to know my selfe; to the end, that this knowledge may represent to me alwayes the realitie of my wretchednesse. Make me that I may see my selfe, may understand and feele [Page 165]my selfe to dye every moment: but so, that I may see it with the eyes of my heart, perceive it with the eyes of my soule, and feele it by the sense of my conscience, therein to finde my repose and safetie. I know well, that Nature mournes uncessantly the death of its workes, which are devoured every houre by time; and though no where thus can I see but Sadnesse it selfe, yet ne're­thelesse remaine I insensible of the horrour of these objects; and though they be terrible, my spirit not affrigh­ted. Render me therefore, if it please thee, render me fearefull, and make me even to tremble in thinking of it, since the thought of it is so important, and suffer me not to live a kind of Death, without meditating of that life which is exempt from Death, and whereof Eter­nitie is the Limit. All my votes doe terminate at this, and all my wishes, which I addresse to thy bounty, that I may one day see the effects of my hopes. Let us advance on our first proposi­ [...]ion.

O how celebrious, and glorious is the Triumph over our selves! Let us leave [Page 166]the Laurels, and Palmes to those fa­mous Conquerours of Sea and Land.A Man hath no greater enemy then himselfe. Their Crownes are now metamorphosed into dust, their renowne into wind, them­selves into corruption, and for a surplus­age of mishap after the conquest of the whole World, they dye in the miseries, whereunto they were borne.

Cyrus could not bound his Ambition lesse, then to the vast extention of the Universe; and yet aTOMYRIS. simple woman one­ly prescrib'd him an allay, and placed his head in the range of his owne Tro­phies. Arthomides playes Iupiter upon Earth, his portraict is the onely Idoll of his subjects: and yet one turne of the wheele casts him a sacrifice upon the same altar, which hee had erected to his Glory, his life glistering with triumphs, but his death in such a ruine, clouded even the memory of his name. All those stately Triumphers, There is nothing more vaine, then Vaine-glory: 'tis a body with­out soule or life, having no subsi­stance, but in Imagination. of whom Antiquity trumpets-out wonders, have had no other recompence of their la­bours, but this vaine conceipt, that one day men would talke of them. But what fe­licity is it to be praised in this world, to which they are dead, and tormented in [Page 167]the other, wherein they live even yet, and ever. I care very little, that men should talke of me after my Death, the esteeme of men is of so small importance, that I would not buy it so deare, as with a wish onely. It behooves to search reputa­tion in the puritie of the conscience, if a man would have the glory of it last for ever. The renowne of a good man is much greater, then that of Caesar or Alexander; for this has no other foun­dation, then the soyle where it was sowed, and where the goodlyest things display themselves like flowers, and like flowers also have but a mor­ning-flourish: But the other having for a firme stay Eternitie, this object ennobleth it to perfection,The renowne of a good man onely lasts al­wayes. and thus desiring nothing else but heaven, it re­maines to us at the end for recom­pence.

Blondus in his Treatise of Rome, in its triumphant glory, reckons up three hundred and twenty triumphs, all re­markable: but where are now these pompes, these magnificences, this in­finite number of Trophies, and a thou­sand other ornaments, which rattled [Page 168]out their glory. Where are I say these Conquerours? where are their slaves? their Idolaters, their admirers? These pompes have but flash't like light­ning,'Tis some com­fort yet to a wise man, though him­selfe fade away, to see that all things else doe so too. and so passed away with the day, that accompanyed their lustre. These magnificences have beene but seene, and so tooke their passage in flight. These trophies being onely bravadoes of the time, times inconstancy made them vanish in an instant, & all those o­ther ornaments made but ostentation of their continuall vicissitude, as being an inseparable accident of their nature. These vanquishers onely had the name on't, since Death led them away also in triumph, for all their triumphings. Their captives were rather slaves of the miseries whereunto they were borne, then so by the absolute power of him who captived thē. Their Idolaters have beene immolated to the fury of yeeres, which spare none; and their admirers have incurred the same fate with the subject, which they admired: Inso­much, that of all together, remaine [...] nothing but a faint remembrance which as it waxeth old, is effac't by [Page 169]little and little out of memory, and scarcely will it subsist so much in the imagination, as to be in the end bu­ryed among fables.Since Eternitie onely triumphs over Time, wee should onely strive to attaine that. Behold here the Anatomie of the glory of the world, see the true portraict of its false Image. Contemplate, meditate, you will avouch with me, that All is full of vanitie.

O how stately and magnificent is the Triumph of Ages! what trophies may a man see at their ever-rowling Chariot! what Conquerours are not in the number of their subjection? what soveraigne power can resist their violence? what newer can Triumph then this of yeares? Who can give in ac­count the number of their victories, and [...]esse the captives which Death serves [...]n for their trophies? What newer triumph againe evermore then of mo­ [...]eths, of dayes, of houres, and mo­ [...]ents? For consider to your selfe, how many Kings, Princes, and Lords, die [...]n one age in all the places of the world. All these vanquishers are vanquisht, [...]nd led in triumph to the grave. Every Yeare makes its conquest a part, gives [...]attell, and carryes away the victory [Page 170]over so many,A righteous man onely stands exempt from the terror of death. and so many men, that hardly can one conceive so lamentable a truth; Months, Dayes, Houres, and Moments, triumph in their courses; who can number all those who dyed yesterday out-right, or are dead to day? Nay more, how many dye at this houre, and at this very instant, that I entertaine you with this discourse. And all these defeats of mortalitie mark out to us the Triumphs, whereof time onely beares away the glory: But let us not pretend to share in't, 'tis not worthy our Ambition. Let Ages, Yeeres, Moneths, Dayes, Houres, and Moments, triumph over us:A good con­science is ever under shelter from all the in­constant tempests of ages. Vertue alwayes li­mits their puissance, and with it wee may prescribe a bound to all these Triumphants. Faire leave may they take to ruinate out-ward beauty, but that of innocence is of proofe 'gainst all their strokes. Well may they im­paire outward graces; but those of hea­ven contemne their assaults. No doubt they may change the visage of all the marvels of Art, and miracles of Na­ture: Our Resolution is a rocke in midst of all their stormes, and may re­maine [Page 171]alwayes it selfe without under­going other rules then its owne. So that thus wee may lead Time it selfe along in triumph, if wee live for no­thing more then for Eternitie.

He which lives for eternitie, dreads no death.I scorne the Tyranny of Ages, my ayme is beyond 'em all. I despise the power of yeeres, my Ambition raignes already out of their reach. Let Months, Dayes, Houres, and Moments, en­traile all things along with 'em; I for my part, franchise their carreere, since my scope is much more farther yet. Let them triumph fully, my very de­feat shall lead them in triumph at the end of their terme, for the eternity whither I aspire, already assignes out their tombe. Let us stay no longer in so cragged a way.

The Emperour Trajan caused his Sepulcher to be enfram'd in the midst of Rome's greatest place, as upon a state­ [...]y Theater, on which his successors were to act their parts. Every man dies [...]or himselfe;Seriùs aut ci­tiùs metam properamus ad unam. sooner or later wee must [...]rrive to the place, to which uncessantly [...]ee walke. Be it to morrow, or today, [...]t the end of the terme all's equall. [Page 172]Nor old nor yong can marke the diffe­rence in their course, being arrived to the end of their carreere, for a hun­dred Ages when past, and one instant make but the same thing. 'Tis onely necessary to muze of our last gist in the grave, since thither we runne till wee [...]re out of breath, from moment to mo­ment.

The Trojans would have the bury­ing-places of their Princes to be in the most remarkable place of the City, to the end,Plac [...]s of buriall are sad Thea­ters, where every day are acted none but Tra­gedies. that this sad object might serve as a fixt Memento to remem­brance them, that the Tragedie, which had beene acted by these yesterday, might againe be represented by some other to day.

The Philosophers know that ob­jects move the faculties, and that ac­cording to the quality of their impres­sions, they worke upon the spirits, which contemplate them. Let us say now, that of all the direfull objects, which are presented to our eyes, there is none more powerfull o're our appre­hensions, then this of Meditation of Death, and the horrour of the grave. [Page 173]The most couragious yeeld them­selves to these assaults, the most va­liant resist nor their violences. All droop at approach of an enemy so re­doubtable. But our defeat, if rightly carryed, is more glorious then our Triumph. What successe is this, by being overcome, to beare away the crowne of victory? such submission is a marke of Soveraignety.

If the meditation of death make not a sinner change his life, nothing will doe it. Petrus Gregorius tells us of the Em­perour Charles the fift, that hee caused his winding head-ketcher to be car­ryed before him for a standard in all his Armyes, six yeeres before he dyed, to the end, that the continuall object of his greatnesse, might not be too powerfull to tempt him to miscon­ceive himselfe.

We doe the same every day, with­out thinking on't, for our shirts are in a manner as so many winding-sheetes, which wee carry alwayes with us in all places where we goe: But if this sad object be not enough to moderate our ambition, and rebate our vanity, this voluntary is inseparable from paine, we must needs undergoe the Law, [Page 174]which wee impose upon our selves.

'Tis best to let Death be wel­come to us, since 'tis inevitable. LORD suffer me not, if it please thee, so farre to mistake my selfe, as never to come to the point of medita­ting of this blessed Decree, which thou hast imposed on me, to dye one day. But illuminate my spirit with the light of thy grace, which may stead me as a Pharos, to shew me the haven of the grave, where the ship of my life must put ashore. Make me al­so, if it please thee, to be ignorant of all things else, but the knowledge to live well, that I may also dye so; and thus, let the miseries which accom­pany me, the mishaps that follow me, and all the other afflictions which thy goodnesse hath subjected me to, be the ordinary objects of my thoughts, to the end, that I stray not from the way of my salvation. And now have have I no other passion, but to see the effects of these prayers. Let us goe to the end.

The Combat ought alwayes to precede the Vi­ctorie, and the Victorie the Triumph.Those that have averred, that the world is to us an hostile Army, com­posed of so many Souldiers as there are objects in nature, capable to agi­tate [Page 175]the power of our passions, had ve­ry good reasons to defend the truth of their Thesis. These objects of it make warre against us continually, with all the assaults, inventions, and strata­gems of a cruell enemy. Beautie, that assaults our soules, by the way of our eyes, with as much cunning as force; for at first view, it amuseth the Sence with admiration, by a slight of com­placence, to which its sweets and al­lurements insensibly engage it. After­wards the Sensus Communis, receiving the faire Species of the Idea of this faire enemie, presents them to the Fan­cie, the Fancie to the Vnderstanding, which after it hath examined them ac­cording to its capacitie, offers them to the Will, which by a naturall appre­hension, findes it selfe obliged to love the subject from whence these amia­bles doe proceed. And now then it is the Cue of Reason, ether to condemne or authorize this Love; but most of­ten that becomes charmed it selfe, and wee vanquish't. Not that Reason is not sufficiently strong and powerfull, but whereas its force and vertue de­pends [Page 176]meerely upon grace,Our passions are the flatte­ring'st enemies of the world, for they assault us with those semblant satis­factions to us, as may seeme most agreeable; and thus they are most to be feared. the con­tempt which ordinarily it makes of this, renders both alike unprofitable. This is that which obliges us in all these conflicts, to implore the helpe of heaven, rather then to trust upon our strengths, and evermore to have a jealous eye to this our subtile ene­mie, which yet can never get other ad­vantage upon us, then that which our wretchlesnesse suffers it to acquire.

We cannot justly complaine of our defeat, since 'tis voluntarie.The very fairest objects of the world, may well enforce admiration, but not love, since love cannot be for­med in our hearts, but by a powerfull reflexion of the amiable qualities which are found in the subject, and in this it is necessary, that the understan­ding doe operate, and the will con­sent. And this cannot be done with­out a free deliberation, which wee ab­solutely authorize. Insomuch, that we cannot be overcome, if we rush not in­to't with desire of our owne overthrow. And this not so neither, as if there were no trouble in the resistance; but rather 'tis a way to acquire much more glory in the victory over beauteous [Page 177]objects, by the power of reason, which is more troublesome and difficult, then that which one gets o're an ene­my by force of armes.The rewards which God hath prepared after all our troubles, doe infinitely sur­passe our deserts. But the honour also surpasseth alwayes the difficulty, and what paine soever a man can possi­bly take, the Prize and Crowne at last can admit of no comparison.

Wee must then bravely combate those proud beauties, which make pub­lick profession to enchaine our hearts in irons, and put our soules upon the rack, and let them see, to their confusion, that the naturall Magicke of their charmes is to us a new Art of Logicke, which informes us to make Arguments, both to give for granted their power, and yet destroy their force. Faire leave have they to expose to view their blan­dishments, and graces: the light of Reason produceth a livelyer Day, whose luster duskes the midday-splen­dour; for by the ayde of this light a man may see, that all their quaintnesses are but dawbings, their delicacies but artifice, and their attractives, but onely composed by distillatories. And how can one Idolatrize them [Page 178]then, after meditationall presentment of these verities? Behold the onely meanes to prescribe a rule over these Soveraignes, who would impose it on the whole world.He commands best, that can obey reason. Not that this kind of combate requires force of courage, but rather of prudence, after first a misprise of them to fly away; and not to put the victory into hazard.

There are yet other enemies, which render themselves as redoutable as the former, such are Ambition, riches, &c. what meanes is there to resist them, or to speake better, to vanquish them? they have no lesse allurements, and sweets, then the beauties afore-spoken of, and though the force of them be different, they cease not ne'rethelesse, to excite and move the passions with all sort of violence.

Ambition ha's its particular delica­cies, and charmes, to ravish mens hearts, and soveraignize o're their soules; and I beleeve, that its Em­pire extends it selfe farre beyond that of Love: for all the world is not capa­ble of this latter passion, but of the other every man has a smatch from that de­fect, [Page 179]from our originall, wherewith a man is tainted.Vanitie is bred and borne with us, but 'tis in our choise, whether to let it ever keepe us companie. And this passion is so much the more to be feared, as it is naturall, and growing up with us in measure as wee grow our selves. The meanes to vanquish it, is to study to know ones-selfe, and thus plainely to see the frailty of our foundation.

What Ambition can a man have, that knowes the number of the grea­test part of the miseries and mis­haps which accompanie his life? To what can he pretend, being not able to dispose of one onely moment? Nay, what can he wish for beyond himselfe, since for any long time together, hee ha's not strength enough to looke downe to his owne feete? What high ayme can hee give his designes, since all his thoughts, his desires, and hopes, have their limited scope be­yond his power, as depending upon the Future, 'Tis the best my­sterie of all hu­mane Trade, to learne to die dayly, and in this Vocation they that are active apprentises, are Masters. whereof hee cannot dis­pose. All lyes then in this, to know our selves, that is, to consider the cer­taineties thus sensible, both of our de­fects and infirmities.

The Passion for Riches is alwayes [Page 180]extreame, allowing no moderation in our hearts. 'Tis a kind of hydropicke maladie, wherein thirst increaseth the more one drinks. A rich man of ten thousand pounds a yeere, wisheth thirtie thousand, and if perhaps hee see the effects of his desires, hee soone conceives new ones, being never able to find content in the enjoyment of the goods which hee already posses­seth.

That temperament of spirit, which Philosophie teacheth us to live con­tent in, whatsomever condition a man is in, is a vertue so chast, that it suf­fers it selfe to be possest by no body in this age,The true know­ledge of Vertue, would soone in­sinuate its love. wherein wee are; not that a man cannot enjoy it, but 'tis to be sought in the purity of the conscience, rather then in the world, where it is un­knowne but onely barely in name.

This greedy passion of heaping trea­sure upon treasure, is so proper to our criminall and corrupt nature, that a man cannot guard himselfe from it, without a speciall helpe from Heaven. Since that robbery, which our first Parents made in the terrestriall Para­dise, [Page 181]all our thoughts and hopes are so theevish, that they would rob the future of those goods, which we wish for then, making no esteeme of those which wee already possesse; our hearts sigh unces­santly with impatience, in attendance of a new acquist. What remedy now is there to cure so contagious a malady, whose insensible dolour makes us often contemne a remedy? what meanes I say,Povertie of spi­rit is the greatest riches. to triumph over a passion so strong and puissant, and to which our nature it selfe lends a hand? 'Tis certainely an action of study, where reason with time must get the advantage. It is necessary to con­sider every time that this desire to amasse riches, doth presse and force us; what shall we doe with all these treasures, af­ter wee have heapt them up? To leave them to our heires, it is to make them rich with our owne losse, which they too perhaps will laugh at, in the posses­sion. 'Tis I say, to damne our selves for others profit, as if we had never lived for our selves. To carry them into the grave with us, is to have laboured for wormes: what shall then become on 'em? Wee must of necessity leave them behind. [Page 182]O cruell necessity! but yet most sweet and pleasing in its continuall medita­tion,'Tis the best pro­vidence in this world, to lay up treasures for t'other. since it teaches us to under-value all that may be lost.

There are a great number of other Passions, which may master us with the same violence, according to the dispo­sition of the predominating humour which possesseth us; such are Choler, Envie, Detraction, &c. but with the only force of Reason, assisted with the usuall grace, which concurres in all good acti­ons, we may easily be able to triumph over them.

We reade of Pyrander King of Egypt, that being one day in choler against one of his slaves, he heard a clap of thunder so terrible, that he became suddenly quite appeased; as if he had had this thought that the Gods were angry with his fury since they clamoured louder then hee Let us have often the same thoughts but with more truth and illumination every time that this blind passion would exercise over us its tyrannie. My mea­ning is, that in the violentest heat o [...] our choler, wee lend an eare of imagi­nation to the noise of the thunder of di­vine [Page 183]Justice, that thus we may be appea­sed at the same time,'Tis a good me­thod first to feare God, then to love him. for what ground have we to be armed with fury, against our neigh­bours, when heaven is animated with iust ven­geance against our selves?

The Passion of Envy as blacke as hell, & the most criminal of all together pro­ceeds from an invenomed mischievous­nes, to which nature contributes nothing at all. 'Tis a devillish passion, whose fury & rage keepes the soule in fetters,Envious men are most their owne enemies, and rob themselves of the rowne quiet and whose theevish jealousie robs away the goods of others in a hounding after 'em, & yet possesses none of 'em. What meanes is there then to vanquish this untameable vice? No other but this, to consider the Justice of that adorable Providence which imparts never its favours and graces, but with weight & measure. God cannot doe but iustly, since his Iustice is no other then himselfe. Then if this man have 10000 [...]ounds a yeere, and I but a 100, where­of can I complaine? shall I doubt [...]he reason from Reason it selfe? shall I [...]ccuse Justice of Injustice? To take for [...]ranted, that the Soveraigne of all does [...]hat hee will, and the Almighty what [...]e pleaseth, I will alwayes relye to that [Page 184]ballance, which God beares in his hand, and by which himselfe weigh­eth his actions to the poize of his will, and consequently to the measure of his Justice. What objection can be made against this truth?

The envious man is never in health, tortured with the Hectick Peaver of this ever-burning passion.Envious Maligner, adore that, which thou can'st not comprehend, and then instead of pining for the goods, which thou enjoyest not; give thankes to heaven for those which thou possessest, and how small some­over they be, they are ever great enough to amuze thee all thy life-long to the study of thankefull acknowledgment.

The Passion of Detraction is easily overcome by a fresh consideration of our owne proper defects, for of all the Vices whereof wee accuse one another, our hearts may convince us. If I call a man theefe, am not I a greater theefe then hee, since against the Lawes of charity I rob him of his honour by this injury? Suppose he be a false villaine, yet in calling him by this name, I be­tray the secret, which his fault should [...]n charity impose upon me. But if he be nothing so; loe I my selfe am now [Page 185]a Traytor both at once of his reputa­tion,'Tis more impor­tant to learne to hold one's peace, then to hold up the talke. and mine owne conscience. There is no fault more unpardonable, then this of Obloquie, and in regard that for a just expiation of the crime, it is fitting that the tongue which did the hurt, should give the remedy.

Thou Detractour, if thou canst not moderate thy passion, speake ill onely of thy selfe, Study thine owne vices, Meditate thine owne faults, and Ac­cuse thy selfe of them before heaven, which is already witnesse of thy crimes; and by this way of reproach­ing, thou shalt obtaine one day to be praised eternally. Behold mee now at the end of the Chapter.

He which often muzes of Death, will every day learne to live well.After all these particular remedies with which a man may learne easily to resist the tyranny of the Passions, there is none more soveraigne then this of the Meditation of Death. All the rest abbut at this onely, as the most au­thorized, by daily experience.

Great Kings, suffer your selves to be led in triumph by your owne thoughts to the grave, and by the way consider how your greatnesses, your riches, [Page 186]your delights, and all the magnificence of your Court, follow you step by step, being brought along by the same fate, whose absolute Tyranny spares none. And since you may dye every houre, think at the least sometimes of this truth, to the end that that houre of your lifes dy­all surprize you not. Much good doe't you to nourish up your selves delici­ously, yet all these Viands wherewith you repast your selves are empoysoned, as containing in 'em theCaliditas, Frigiditas, Humiditas, Siccitas. foure contrary qua­lities, whose discord puts into skirmish your humours, and this battell is an in­fallible presage of your overthrow: wel may you chase away Melancholy, by ver­tue of fresh pleasures, these very content­ments cheat away your life, for though you thinke of nothing but how to passe a­way the time, it passes ere you think on't, & Death comes before you have forseen his arrivall. Well may you cocker up your bodyes, content your senses, and satiate the appetite of your desires: the Taper of your life has its limited course,Pleasures make us grow old, as well as griefes. as well as that of the day. Every man pursues his carreere, accor­ding to the inviolable Lawes of hea­ven, [Page 187]which hath asigned 'em out at once, both the way, and the bounds. Suffer Time to lead you by the hand to the Tombe, Fata volentem ducunt, no­lentem tra­hunt. for feare he hale you thi­ther. But in dying muze at least of that Life, which never shall have end. All the felicities which you have possest, are vanished with the flower of your age, and all those which you will yet enjoy, will flye away with the rest. What will remaine with you then, at the last instant of your life,Those pleasures cost very deare, which are worth nothing but re­pentance. but an irk­some remembrance, to have tasted a thousand pleasures, which are past, and to have lost so many meanes of having had others, which would have lasted eternally. Disinvest your selves then, for one houre every day, of all your greatnesse, and in the presence of your owne selves, meaning in review of all your miseries, & mishaps, which are proper to you, confesse the truth of your nullitie, and of your corruption; by this search you shall recover your selves, and by this confessi­on thus shall you Tri­umph o're your selves.

WHat a horrid spectacle is this? what a frightfull object? See you not this great number of Dead Mens sculls, which heap'd one upon another, make a mountaine of horrour, and affright, whose bale­full, and contagious umbrage, insen­sibly invites our bodies on to the grave. What a victorie is this over these? but what an inhumanitie? what a defeate? but what a butchery. May wee not say, that fury and rage, [Page 192]have assassinated, even Natures-selfe, and that we now alone remaine in the world, to celebrate its funerals by our lamentations, and regreets. Fathers, Mothers, Death is a se­vere Iudge, and pardons none. Children, Nobles, and Plebeians, Kings, and their subjects are all pell-mell in this stacke of rotten wood, which Time like a covert, but burning fire consumes by little and little, not able to suffer, that ashes should be exalted above dust.

Proud Spirits, behold here the dread­full reverse of the medall. All these sad objects of mortality, and yet active­ly animated, with horror & affright, by their own silence enjoyne the same to you thus to amuze your Spirits in the con­templation of their deplorable ruines. If you be rich, See here those, who have possessed the greatest treasures of the world, are not now worth the marrow of their owne bones, whereof the wormes have already shared the spoyle. If you be happy; The greatest favorites of for­tune, are reduced to the same noysomnesse as you see the filth that enrounds them. If you be valiant, Hector, and Achilles, are thus here overcome, behold the [Page 193]shamefull markes of their overthrow. If you be men of Science, Death may be contemned, but not avoided. Here lyes the most learned of the world. 'Tis the Epitaph on their tombe, Reade it.

I grant more-over, you may be the greatest Princes of the earth. An infinite number of your companions are buried under these corrupted ruines. Suppose in fine, that your Soveraignety did ex­tend it selfe over all the Empire of the world; A thousand and a thousand too of your semblables, have now nothing more their owne, then that corrup­tion, which devoures, even to the very bones.

Ambitious Heart, see here a Mirrour which flatters not, since it represents to the life the reality of thy miseries. Well maist thou perhaps pretend the con­quest of the Universe; even those, who have borne away that universall Crowne, are now crowned, but with dust, and ashes. 'Tis no wonder the Miser ne're thinks of Death, his thoughts are onely taken up for this Life.

Covetous wretch, behold the booke of thy accounts, calculate all that is due to thee, after payment of thy debts: learne yet after all this, that thy soule is already morgaged to devils, thy body to [Page 194]wormes, and thus, notwithstanding all thy treasures, there will not abide with thee one haire upon thy head, one tooth in thy chops, nor one drop of blood in thy veynes, nor ne're so little marrow in thy bones, nay the very memory of thy being, would be extinguish't if thy crimes did not render it eternall, both here, and in the torments of hell.

Pride is but like the noone-flou­rish of a flower, which at Sun­set perisheth. Proud arrogant man, measure with thy bristled browes, the dilatation of the earth, Brave with thy menacing regards the heavens, and the flarres. These mole-hills of rottennesse, whereof thy carkasse is shap't, prepare toward the tombe of thy vanity.Seneca Epist. These are the shades of Death inseparable from thy body, Quotidie mo­rimur, quotidie enim demitur aliqua pars vitae. since it dyes every houre. If thou elevate thy selfe to day, even to the clouds; to morrow thou shalt be deba­sed to nothing. But if thou doubt of this truth, behold here a thousand wit­nesses which have made experience of it.

Luxurious Wanton, give thy body a prey to voluptuousnesse, deny nothing to thy pleasures; but yet consider the horrour, and dreadfulnesse of that Me­tamorphosis, when thy flesh shall be tur­ned [Page 195]to filth, and even that to wormes, and those still to fresh ones, which shall devoure even thy coffin, and so efface the very hast markes of thy Sepulture.

How remarkable is the answere of Dio­genes to Alexander? What art thou musing on, Cynicke, says this Monarch to him one day, having found him in a Charnell-yard, I amuze my selfe here (answers he) in search of thy father Phi­lips bones among this great number, which thou see'st; but my labour is in vaine, for one differs not from another.

Great Kings, the discusse of this an­swer, may serve you now as a fresh in­struction, to insinuate to you the know­ledge of your selves. You walke in triumph to the Tombe, followed with all the traine of your ordinary magnifi­cences: but being arrived at this Port, blowne thither with the continuall gale of your sighs, your pompe vanisheth away, your Royall Majestie abandons you, your greatnesse gives you the last Adieu, and this your mortall fall equals you now, to all that were below you. The dunghill of your body, hath no preheminence above others, unlesse it be in a worse de­gree [Page 196]of rottennesse, Corruptio op­timi pessima. as being of a matter more disposed to corruption: But if you doubt of this truth, behold and con­template the deplorable estate, to which are reduced your semblables. Their bald scalps have now no other Crowne, then the circle of horrour, which environes them; their disincarnated hands hold now no other Scepter, but a pile of worms, and all these wretchednesses together, give them to see a strange change, from what they were in all the gloryes of their Court. These palpable and sensible ob­jects, are witnesses not to be excepted against. The serious medi­tation of his mi­serable condi­tion, is capable to make any man wise. Let then your soules submit to the experiment of your senses.

But what a Prodigie of wonder's here▪ doe I not see, the great Army of Xerxes, reduced and metamorphosed into a handfull of dust? All that world of men in those dayes, which with its umbragious body, covered a great part of the earth▪ shades not so much as a foot on't with its presence. Be never weary of thinking of these important truths.

In Hercule Octaeo. Seneca in the Tragedie of Hercule [...] brings in Alcmena, with grievous lamen­tation, bearing in an urne, the ashes of [Page 197]that great Monster-Tamer; Ecce vix to­tam Hercules Complevit ur­nam, quàm leve est pondus mihi, C [...]i totus aether pondus incubuit leve? And to this effect makes her speake; Behold, how easily I carry him in my hand, who bore the Heavens upon his shoulders. The sense of these wordes, ought to engage our spirits to a deepe meditation upon the vanity of things, which seeme to us most durable. All those great Monarchs who sought an immortalitie in their vi­ctories and triumphs, have miss't that, and found Death at last, the enjoyment of their Crownes and splendours, being buried in the same Tombe with their bo­dyes. See here then a new subject of astonish­ment.

The Mathematicians give this Axiome, All lines drawne from the Center to the Circumference are equall. Kings & Princes, abate your haughtines,The world is a Game at Chesse, where every of the Sett ha's his particular Name and Place designed: but the Game done, all the Pieces are pell­mell'd into the Bagge: and even so are all motrals into the grave. your subjects march fellow-like with you to the Center of the grave. If life gave you preheminence; Death gives them now equality. There is now no place of affectation, or range to be disputed: the heap of your ashes, and their dust, make together but one hillocke of mould, whose infection is a horrour to me. I am now of humour not to flatter you a whit.

[Page 198] We read of the Ethiopians, that they buryed their Kings in a kind of Le­stall: and I conceive there of no other reason, then according to the nature of the subject, they joyned by this acti­on, the shadow and the substance, the effect with the cause, the streame with its source; for what other thing are we then a masse of mire, dryed and bak'd by the fire of life; but scattered againe and dissolv'd by the Winter of Death; and in that last putrefaction, to which Death reduceth us, the filth of our bodyes falls to the durt of the earth, as to its center, for so being conceived in corruption, let us not thinke strange to be buryed in rotten­nesse.

'Tis well men hide themselves after death in the Earth, or the enclosure of Tombes, their filth and noysom­nesse would else be too discovert. Earth, dust, and ashes, remaine still the same, be it in a vessell of gold, or in a coffin of wood, or in a Mausolean Tombe of marble. Great Kings, well may you cover your wretchednesse, with a magnificent Sepulcher, they will for all this not alter condition, the noysom­nesse of your bones is never without the abhorrement, and putrefaction pro­per to them. And if (suppose) their [Page 199]masse be reduced into dust, and the wind carry it away, the very wings of the wind are laden with rottennesse, and can scatter nothing else in a thou­sand places, where ere they fall. I will a little straggle out the way without loosing my ayme.

Fabius Paulus reports, that upon the Tombe of Isocrates, there was a Syren seared upon a Ram, and holding a Harp in her hand. And this gave to under­stand, That this famous Orator charmed mens soules through their eares, by the sound of his admirable eloquence. But whereas no melodious ayre was heard from the mute Harp of this Syren, it was required of the Spectators, to take for granted in imagination, the har­mony of her sweet touches,How unsuffera­ble is the vanity of men, who even is on their Tombes, will have the display of their vaine glory. as embleme of the sweetnesse of this great Orators voyce: But Death imposeth silence on both, and thus remained they a sad sight, both in object, and mysteries contai­ned under; since now of these passages remaines no more but a weake remem­brance, and whereof Time by little, and little effaceth even the Ideas.

Iohannes Baptista Fontanus relates, that [Page 200]upon the Sepulcher of Q. Martius there was 'graven a Ramme supported upon the two fore-feet, and a Hare dead by its side. The Ramme represented the generosity of this great Captaine in all combats, and the dead Hare, his vanquisht enemies: But what honour now remaines him after their de­feat? This van quisher of an infinite number of miserable wretches, is at the last overcome with his owne mi­series. Though Triumphant in a thousand combats, one marble stone now containes all his trophies, and glory. O deplorable fate! to have but seven foot-earth, after conquest of the grea­test part of the earth.

Plutarch assures us, that upon the Tombe of Alexander, there was repre­sented in Embleme Asia, and Europe, appearing vanquisht, and in the chaines of their captivity, with this mot, which served as a fresh Trophy, The victorie of Alexander. O poore victorie! O sorry triumph! for where are now its Laurels, and Palms? This great Monarch conquered the whole world, but being never able to [Page 201]conquer his ambition, This in the end, hath taken away all the glory, which it made him acquire. Great Princes, advance then on to the conquest of the Vniverse, but I advertise you one thing,The misprise of the world is more glorious then all its honours. All those that are returned from the same action, have much repented themselves, to have taken so great paynes for so small a matter.Le jeu ne vaut pas la chandelle. The Game's not worth the Candle, as the Pro­verb. But if you love to Conquer, and triumph; your passions will furnish you with such subject every houre. Let's once see the end of our carriere.

We read of Cyrus, that he caus'd to be engraven these words upon the stone of his Monument, HERE LYES THE CONQVEROVR OF THE PERSIANS. But what excesse of mishap could have reduced so great a Monarch to such an excesse of wretchednesse, must it be said? Here lyes, of one that lately stood so trium­phant? Would hee have men admire his past glory in view of that vault, where he was enterred? would he have men adore the magnificences of his Life upon the same Altar, where Death [Page 202]exhibits him as a victime? Is not this a vanity more worthy of compassion, then envy?

The History of the life of Themisto­cles was to be read upon the marble of his Sepulcher, but 'twas forgotten, there to depaint also the story of his Death. 'Tis but a poore satisfaction to, have for recom­pence of so much paines, but the ostentation of a glorious Sepul­cher. Behold the high deeds of Themisto­cles, this was the inscription. But to us it may be of importance to consi­der, that although the wonders, which he had done, were onely graven upon the port of his Monument, yet for all that, they also made their entrie into it, and followed the fate of their au­thor: so that now rests nothing of The­mistocles, but Name, for of all that hee hath done, the wind hath carryed away the glory, and the small remem­brance on't, which sticks by us, is but a portraict of vanitie.

There was represented upon the Tombe of Ioshua, the Sunne with this inscription.Iosh. 10.12. Sunne stand thou still upon Gibeon. True it is, the Sunne stood still in the mid'st of his carreere, to give full Triumph to this great Captaine over his enemies: But after they were [Page 203]overthrowne, this Planet jealous of his glory conducts him also to his grave, as not enduring to see any thing upon earth, as durable as it selfe. So true it is, that all things here flit away, There is no course swifter, then that of Life to Death. with the swiftnesse of a Torrent; though their flight to us seeme much more slow.

The Epitaph, which someSit fides pe­nes Authorem. wri­tings report us of Adam, has not so much splendour and magnificence, as the others. Hee is Dead, sayes his Epi­taph, speaking onely of him. O excel­lent Epitaph! Men shall say no more of you one day, Great Kings. Well may you with Q. Martius come off vi­ctorious from all combats, and enter in triumph into Cities with Alexan­der. Well may you cause to be in­sculp't the History of your Acts, upon the marble of your Sepulchers, like as Themistocles; and may you Sub-poena the Sun for a witnesse of the reality of your triumphs, like Ioshuah: Yet for all this, men shall say no more of you, then was said of ADAM, HEE IS DEAD. They are dead, and there is all.

The Epitaph of David composed [Page 204]by some, from consequence of Scrip­ture, is worthy remarke: Here lyes the invincible Monarch, who in his child-hood o'recame Beares, in his adolescency Lyons, in his youth Gyants, and in his age himselfe. Travellour envie not his repose, for thou art in the way to it thy selfe. These words are expresse in a neere regard to the sense of those, which are couch't in Scripture upon this subject, and I thereto can adde no more then this discurse of my astonishment, and rap­ture.

What! so great a Prince as David, favoured by heaven, and redoubted upon earth, and so endowed by Na­ture, shall he glympse out a little but like a flash of lightning, and passe away like a puffe of wind? where then shall a man find constancy and assu­rance?Inconstancy is the onely foundation of created things. What can be the site and foun­dation of all these our new wonders of the world, whose beauty seemes to contest for luster with the very Sunne? O LORD, to me it is a most agreeable consolation, to see in my race to the tombe, how all things follow me. I am well apayd, that there is nothing here below dura­ble, [Page 205]but thy Word alone, since this makes me hope for an Eternitie, which shall never be subject to the inconstan­cy of times. Let all things LORD change with me, and thus I love this change, for in rowling along, from time to time toward the grave, I still approach towards thee, and consequent­ly to my soveraigne repose, and last felicitie. Let us follow our first tra­ces.

The first Epitaph which was put upon Tombes, was that of the faire RA­CHEL, as is partly remark't from Scripture,Gen. 35.20. and Borchardus assures us it was a Pyramide, which Iacob erected, sustained upon a dozen precious stons, with this inscription, [...] HERE LYES BEAVTIE AND LOVE.

Ladyes, let your sweetnesse and blandishments now change language, and let 'em tell us no more that you are faire, since Beautie is buried in the Tombe of the faire Rachel: But if you make bravado of your crisped haires, whose glistering charmes dazle the eyes, & captivatemens soules at once: [Page 206]Her bright lockes dispersed into a thousand golden wreaths, had the pow­er to enchaine mens hearts, and yet her vertue was to despise this power. But for all this,Ladies, if you be sair [...] to day, there is a to morrow when you shall not. notwithstanding Nature was never able to exempt from rotten­nesse this Mistris, or Master-piece of the workes of her hands. Suppose that Majestie it selfe, has no better Mirrour then from the cleere reflections of your ivorie fore-heads: Rachels was so perfect, that 'tis in vaine to seeke termes to expresse its accuratnesse, and yet now 'tis nothing but ashes, if so much.

Let your Eyes (suppose) be more cleere and beautifull then the Sunne, able to make a rape upon mens liber­ties, and enamourate the sternest hearts: those of Rachel were so admira­ble and bewitching, that she her selfe [...]edoubted their force and power. Looking her selfe in a Miriour, her owne eyes enflamed her, [...]ll the tenures of bod [...]l [...] perfe­ct [...] us are held of time, wh [...]e [...] [...]slan [...]y [...]leases away with they every moment. and of this pleasing heate, shee apprehended the iustu [...]nce, being her selfe even tempted to desire it: But for all this, those two sparkling wonders, quickned with [Page 207]Natures sweetest, and most aymiable graces, are now nothing but rottennesse and corruption.

Be your Cheeks halfe Lilyes, halfe Roses, your lippes Carnation-Gilly-flowers, your teeth Orient Pearle, your bosome purest Alabaster, and all these lovely parts enlivened with a spirit divine: faire Rachel possest all these perfections soveraignely, and more then e're you saw, or wisht, as elevated above your knowledge. But (O mishap) she herselfe, in whom all these rare beauties were united, and assembled, is now no more ought at all; or if she be somewhat, it can be but a little dust, and earth, and ashes,Every thing fades sooner in us, then vanity and sinne. which the wormes keepe possession of in deposite. O fearefull metamorpho­sis.

Ladyes, will you yet presume your selves faire, after you have thus now assisted in imagination and thought, to the funerals of Beautie it selfe after you have read, I say, the Epitaph, which Truth it selfe hath written upon her Sepulture. I grant you have a thousand sweets, and graces: yet now [Page 208]at least confesse yee, that these blan­dishments are but of so thinne aeriall worths, that the wind carryes them away, as if they were composed of nought else; for scarcely have they birth, but you see them decay, and then the misprise, that each one makes of them, renders 'em more capable to produce pity then love.

'Tis remark't in the life of the happy Francis Borgia, of the Socie­tie of the Jesuites, that being en­gaged in the world to seeke a for­tune, although the greatnesse of his birth, and merits, were of very great consideration; the Emperour Charles the fifth committed to his charge the dead body of his deare Spouse, to be conducted and carryed to the Sepul­cher of her ancestours, which he vnder tooke, holding for an excesse of ho­nour the commandement which hee had received, and the particular choise which his Majestie had made of his person. But then, when being arrived to the place, where were to be perfor­med the last Exequies of this Princesse they were desirous to visit the corps [Page 209]according to the ordinary formallities accustomed to be practised in an acti­on so important. Never was seene so much horrour, and dismay, as upon overture of the Coffin, on the coun­tenances of the Spectators. They looke for the body of this Princesse in his presence,There is no ob­ject more af­frightfull then mortall miserie, but the daily ha­bit of our sad experiences, takes away the horrour. and 'tis not to be found, for none can know it: her vi­sage heretofore full of blandishments, and all the graces, both of Maje­stie, and sweetnesse is now but a heap of filth, whereof the worms in swarms, and still encreasing, keepe the Court of guard upon the putrefaction. And the rest of her body is still a fresh stocke for these vermine,But O the worme of conscience is to weake soules much more dreadfull, then those which de­voure the body. who have now already reasonably well satisfied their hunger with this prey.

Even those that enwrap't this Princesse in her winding linnen, dare not maintaine twas shee, and hee to whose care the body was deposited, knowes not what to say, finding him­selfe so confounded, and astonish'd with so suddaine and affrightfull a Metamorphosis, that hee streight re­solved at that instant, to quit the [Page 210]world, and devest himselfe of all his greatnesses, since they are not able to exempt the body from corrup­tion.

Ladyes, suffer your selves to be no more surprised by vanity, you see to what extremitie of horrour and mise­rie,All beauties but of vertue are still changing. are reduceable your allurements and charmes. The greatest Princesse of the world, and one of the fairest as hath beene, being now fall'n from her Imperiall Throne into the grave, not one of her attendants can retaine any knowledge of her in so short a space. The wormes having effaced the lineaments of her resemblance, have in­veloped it so deep into corruption, that no where is it to be found else being but Rottennesse. Reader, render up thy selfe to the hits of a Truth so sensible.

'Tis reported of Semiramis, that she caused to be put upon her Tombe this Inscription. The King that shall have need of money, shall find within this Sepul­cher as much as he would have on't. And some time after, King Darius transpor­ted with a violent passion of Avarice, caused this Sepulcher to be opened; [Page 211]but found within no other riches, then of so much gold as was necessarily employed, in the engraving of these words. Covetous wretch, 'Tis an insolence to the priviledges of Nature, to trouble the repose of the Dead. which comest to disturbe the repose of the dead, satiate thy greedy passion upon the treasure of my mise­ries, since this object is powerfull enough to make thee undervalue all the riches of the [...]orld.

You that are Covetous, Enter of­ [...]en, at least in Meditation, into Tombes; visit to such effect the Church-yards, [...]nd you shall find therein more riches [...]hen you wish for, considering the horrour of that rotten earth, wherein [...]our semblables are enterred, you will reason without doubt thus;

To what purpose at last will stead [...]e all, the treasures, which I amasse [...]p in my coffers, if the very richest of [...]he world be but earth, and ashes be­ [...]ore my eyes? What shall I doe at [...]he houre of my death, with all the [...]oods which I now possesse, if even [...]y body be a prey destinated to worms [...]d rottennesse?

LORD, I ayme at nothing of this world, [...]ut that glory alone, which a man may [Page 212]acquire by the contempt of it, but as is a glory, whereof the acquisition de­pends of thy grace, more then my force;All our hopes depend from grace, nothing from our selves. give mee the Courage, if it please thee, to surmount all the temptations, which shall oppose themselves against my designe of Victorie, to the end, that my vowes may be heard, and my paines recompensed. I returne to my selfe.

When I consider, that all the world to­gether, is but as it were a Caemitarie or Churchyard, wherein every houre of the day, some wretchednesse, or other, brings to the grave those whom such their miserable condition hath destroy­ed, I have no more passionate desire of life, since evils and troubles are pro­prietaries of it,He which medi­tates of ano­thers mans death, puts him­selfe in mind of his owne, since we are all slaves to the same fate. rather then we. Who can keepe account of the number of persons, that expire at this very moment, that I am now speaking to you, Or the different deaths, which terminate the course of their carreere? All is universally dread­full, and yet wee quake not, either in horrour, or astonishment.

A Walke into Church-yards, and Charnels, though it be sad and melancholy, by reason of the dolefull object [Page 213]there obvious,In many of the Church-yards of France, are thousands of dead mens skulls and bones, piled up, as at S. Innocents at Paris, Saint Croix at Or­leans, &c. hath yet ne'rethetlesse something in it agreeable to content good soules, in the contemplation of those very objects, which they there find. How often have I ta'en pleasure to consider a great number of Dead-mens sculls arranged one in pile upon another with this conceit of the vanitie, and arrogance, wherewith otherwile they have beene filled? Some have had no other care but of their Haire, em­ploying the greatest part of their time,Meditation upon the vani­ties of life is a piece of serious felicitie before death. either to frizle or to empouder them; and represent unto your selves by the way, what recompence now betides them for all their paines. Others all full of ambi­tion, had no other aymes but at Co­ronall wreaths, consider a little in this their miserie, the injustice of their pretentions.

I ha' remark't in sequell how a little worme did gnaw the arme of some late Samson, reducing thus all his force to an object of compassion, and wret­chednesse, since that arme heretofore so strong, and dreadfull, had not now force enough to resist a little worme. Reader muze often of these truths, and [Page 214]thou shalt finde therein more joy then sad­nesse.

Typotius reports of Iohn Duke of Cleve­land, that to testifie the frailty of our nature and the miseries of our condi­tion, hee had ta'en the Embleme of a Lilly, with this device.

Hodie Lilium, Cras Nihilum. Hodie hoc, cras nihil. It flourishes to day, to morrow 'tis nothing.

Great Kings, your life is like this Lily, it appeares like this flower, at Sunne­rise with glittering and pompe,Even those things, which seeme most dura­ble, have in ef­fect but a mor­ning prime like flowers. but at noone its vivacitie and luster begin to fade, and at the end of the day it va­nisheth away with it, and scarce its be­ing is remembred.

We read in Appianus of Pompey, that after he had triumphed over three parts of the world, he carryed nothing away with him to the grave, but these words, Hic situs est magnus Pompeius, Pom­pey is here buryed with all his pompe.

O World, how poore art thou, since thou hast but such a thing of nought to give? O Fortune, how miserable art thou, when thy favorites are expo­sed to publike view, as objects of compassion? Let him trust in 'em who [Page 215]will, a man shall never be able to es­cape their tromperies, but by despi­ting their favours.

Here lyes Hannibal: Behold all the honour, which posteritie rendred to the memory of so great a Captaine. And Time, Time is as inexo­rable as Death, and neither of them spare any. even jealous of the glory of his name, though not able to bury it in the Abysses of Oblivion, hath yet devoured the very marble of his Sepulcher. Are not these things truths worthy to raise astonishment?

'Tis remark't in Suetonius, of one of the Romane Emperours, that being now at last gaspe, and as it were at a bay with Death, he cryed out in excesse of astonishment; Fui omnia, sed nihil expe­dit: I have beene all in all, but now it no­thing helpeth me. I have tasted all the pleasures of all the greatnesse of the world, but the sweetes are changed in­to soures, and onely their bitter disgust stayes with me.

Experiment all the delights of the Earth, Great Kings, the distast will ever at last only remaine to your mouths, & sorrowes to your hearts, and if these doe no good on you, a thousand eternall [Page 216]punishments will possesse your soules. Represent to your selves, that all the felicities of Life, are of the same nature as that is▪ That decaies every mo­ment, and they slit away without cease. The contentments which men receive here below,Contentments causein their pri­vation as ex­treme discon­tents. are like the pleasures of the Chace, which are onely rellish't running. I draw to an end.

Belon in his Monuments of the Kings of Egypt, sayes, that they were enterred with such a splendour of pompe and magnificence, that even those who had diverse times before beene admi­rers of it, were for all that often in doubt, whether the people went to place the corps in the Throne againe, rather then in their Sepulcher. O how ill to the eyes is the luster of this sad kind of honour! For if vanitie be in­supportable barely of it selfe, these ex­cesses of it, put the spirits upon the racke.

Diodorus Siculus, speaking of the Tombe which Alexander caused to be erected, for his favorite Ephestion, as­sures that the magnificences, which were there to be admired, were beyond [Page 217]as well all valew, as example. Marble, Brasse, Gold, and Pearles, were profusely offered to most cunning Artisans, to frame thereof such workes, wherein sadnesse and compassion, might be so na­turally represented, that they might affect the whole world with the like. Diamonds, Rubies, and all other pre­cious stones, were there employed, under the Image of a Sunne, Moone, and Stars. It seemes this Monarch blinded with Love, thought to hold the Planets cap­tive in the glorious enchainments of those faire Master-pieces,A Man should never be angry with his [...] fates the d [...] on't, are [...] ­lable. as if hee would revenge himselfe of them for their maligne influences, which they had powred upon the head of his deare Ephestion. But this conceite was vaine, for the same starres, whose captivity hee ostented upon this Tombe, con­ducted him also by little and little to his grave.

The Romanes transported with pas­sion, to honour the memory of the Dictator Sylla, caused his statue to be framed of a prodigious height, all composed of perfumes, and cast it into the funerall pile, where his body, where­of [Page 218]of this was also but a shadow, was to be burn't to ashes: Being desirous by this action, to give to understand, that as the odour of his statue disperst it selfe through all the City of Rome, the much more odoriferous savour of his peculiar vertues would spred it selfe through all the world. But to goe to the rigour of the literall sense, it is cre­dible, they had not cast in this aro­maticall statue into the stacke, but on­ly to temper the excesse of the stench of the body, which was to be consu­med with it. And I proceed to ima­gine beside, that the odour of this sta­tue, the cinders of his body, and all the glory of the actions of Sylla, had all the same fate, since the winde triumph't o're 'em altogether. Behold the reverse of the Medall of Vanitie.

'Tis remark't in the life of the Em­perour Severus, by the report of DION, that hee made to be set at the gate of his Palace an Vrne of marble, and as oft as he went in or out, hee was accu­stomed to say, laying his hand on it; Behold the Case that shall enclose him, whom all the world could not containe.

[Page 219] Great Kings, have often the same thoughts in your soules, if you have not the like discourses in your mouths, the smallest vessell of earth is too great for the ashes of your bodyes, which shall re­maine of them, after the wormes have well fed on them: for the wretched­nesse of your humane condition, re­duceth you at last to so small a thing, that you are nothing at all. But if I must give a name to those graines of corrupted dust, which are made of your deplorable remaines, I shall call them the Idea's of a dreame,Man onely is considerable in respect of his no­ble actions. since the memory of your being can passe for no other together with the time. Be­hold a fresh subject of entertaine.

Some of our Ethnicke Historians report to us, that the Troglodites buryed their kindred and friends, with the tone of joyfull cries, and acclamations of mirth.

The Lothophagi cast them into the Sea, choosing rather to have them ea­ten of fishes in the water, then of wormes in the earth.

The Scythians did eate the bodyes of their friends, in signe of amitie, in­somuch [Page 220]that the living were the Se­pulchers of the dead. The Hircanians cast the bodies of their kindred to the Dogges. The Massagetes exposed them as a prey to all manner of rave­nous beasts.

The Lydians dryed them in the Sun, and after reduced them to powder, to the end the wind might carry them away.

Amongst all the customes, which were practised amongst these strange Nations, I find none more commenda­ble then the first, of the Troglodites, looking for no hell, they had good reason to celebrate the funerall of their friends and kindred, with laugh­ter and acclamations of cheerefulnes, rather then with teares, and lamenta­tions.

For though that Life be granted us by divine favour,There is mo [...]e of tem [...]ent in die th [...] to live, if we [...]nsider the end, which man was created. yet we enjoy it but as a punishment, since it is no other thing then a continuall correction of our conti­nuall offences. Besides the sad accidents which accompany it inseparably, even to the grave are so numerous, that a [...] man may justly be very glad at the end [Page 221]of his journey, to see himselfe dischar­ged of so ponderous a burthen.The body of Man being made of earth is subject to earth; but the soule holds onely of its soveraine Creator. Not that I here condemne the teares, which we are accustomed to shed, at the death of our neerest friends, for these are ressentments of griefe, whereof Nature authorizeth the first violences. But nei­ther doe I blame the vertue of those spi­rits, who never discover alteration upon any rencounter of the mishaps, and mi­series of the world,The living are more to be bemo­ned then the dead, they being still ith' midd'st [...]f this lifes tem­pest, but these are a [...]eady arrived to their Port. how extreme soever they be. And what disaster is it to see dye, either our kindred or friends, since all the world together, and Na­ture it selfe, can doe nothing else. What reason then can a man have to call himselfe miserable, for being de­stinated to celebrate the funerals of those, whom he loves best, since the divine Providence, hath soveraignely established this order, and since more­over in this carreere of Death, to which all the world speeds, the Present on't, being not distinguish't but by Time, it will appeare when all is come to the upshot, that one hath lived as long as another, since all ages though different during their continuance, are equall then [Page 222]when they are past. Change wee the dis­course.

I advow once againe, There is no remedie more soveraigne to cure the pas­sion of arrogance, then this the of conside­ration of Caemitaries, and Tombes. The most vaine-glorious and ambitious are forced to yeeld themselves at the assaults of these sad objects. For a spirit ne're so brave and valourous, cannot but be astonish't, when he sees at his feet the bones and dust of an infinite number of persons,To what purpose is Courage against those perils, which cannot be avoyded. who were as valiant as he, what thoughts can he have but of submission, and humilitie, considering that one part of himselfe is already re­duced into dust and filth? I say a part of himselfe, since he himselfe is but a piece of the same matter, which now serves him for object, and to the same last point will be extended one day the line of his life.

When Virgil tells us of the fate of Priam, Aeneid. lib. 2. lacetingens litore truncus, Avulsumque humeris caput, & sine no mine cor [...]u [...]. hee bring in Aeneas astonish't at it, that so great a Monarch should leave to posteritie no other Monu­ment of his greatnesse, but a Tronck of fl [...]sh, a head separated from the shoul­ders [Page 223]and a carkasse, without name or shape.

He which makes himselfe rightly sensible of his miseries is part­ly in way to be exempted from their tyranny. Great Kings, This truth is a Mirrour which flatters not. Gaze here often in these meditations, and you will surely at length consider, that All is full of va­nity, and that this glory of the world, whereof you are so strongly Idolaters, is but a Phantasie, and Chimera, to which your imaginations give that beauty, which charmes you, and that delica­cie, which ravishes you. What thinke you is it, to be the greatest of the world? 'Tis an honour, whereof mi­serie and inconstancy are the founda­tions, for all the felicities which can arrive us, are of the same nature as wee are, and consequently, as miserable as our condition, and as changing. This Earth whereon you live, is the lodging of the dead, what eternitie beleeve you to find in it? Eternitie of honours, riches, and contentments, there was never any but in imagination, and this Idea, which wee have of them, is but a reflection from the lightning of Truth, where-with heaven illuminates noble soules, thus to guide them to the [Page 224]search of the true source of all, by the ayde of these small rivolets.There is nothing eternall in this world but this scope of truth. It is time to finish this worke.

I have made appeare to you in the first Chapter, the particular study which a man ought to take, to come to theHoc jubet illa Pyrhicis ora­culis adscripta vox, Nosce Te. Knowledge of himselfe, Seneca. wherein lyes the accomplishment of perfection. And herein the precept is, The Conside­ration of the miseries, which are destina­ted to our Nature, as being so many objects capable enough, to force up the power of our reason, to give cre­dence to the resentments of frailty, which are proper to us. But this is not all to be meerely sensible of our wret­chednesse. Serious Consideration must often renew the Ideas of them in our soules, more then the hard experience of them. And this to the end, that va­nitie, to which wee are too incident, may not surprize us,He that searches into himselfe shall not lose his la­bour. during the inter­vals of a meditation, so important. Wee must often dive into our selves, and seeke in the truth of our nothing­nesse, some light to make us thus to know our selves. Afterwards making a rise a little higher, it is necessary to [Page 225]consider the End, for which wee were created, and in this consideration to em­ploy all the powers of the severall fa­culties of our soules, to the generous designe of getting possession of that glory. Behold the Corollarie of my first Argument, or Chapter.

The second instructs us a new meanes, to resist powerfully the hits of the vani­ties of the world, from the example of the wretchednesse ofSaladine. one of the greatest Monarchs of the world. Fortune had re­fused him nothing, because she meant to take all from him, for in the height of his glory he finds himselfe reduced to the poorenesse of his shirt onely, which is all he carryes with him into the grave. Povetty and Riches depend upon opinion, and a noble soule is above his fortune in what condition somever he be. And this makes us sensibly perceive that the greatnesses of the earth are Goods, as good as estranged from humane nature, since in this mortall and perishing condition wee can onely possesse their usance, and the terme of this possession is of so short en­durance that wee see as soone the end, as the beginning. Reader represent unto thy selfe, how thou shalt be dealt with at thy death, both by Fortune and the world, since [Page 226]the Minion of this blind Goddesse,Et quae vene­raris, & quae-despicis unus exae quabit ci­nis. and the greatest of the Universe is ex­posed all naked in his shirt in sight of all his subjects to be given in prey to the wormes, Sen. as well as the most mise­rable of the Earth.

The Third Chapter, where Life leads Death in Triumph teaches, us the Art to vanquish this untamable, by considering its weakenesse: for in ef­fect, if Death be but a privation,The horrour of Death, is purely in the weakenes of imagination. 'tis to be deprived of reason and judge­ment, to give it a being, since it can­not subsist but in our impaired imagi­nations. The fantosme of an Idea is it, whose very forme is immateriall, as having no other subsistance, I say but that, which the weakenesse of our spirit gives it. And againe, to come to the most important point; Let this be the close of the recapitulation, that you may have meanes not to stand in feare on't;Sen. Incertum est, quo te loco Mors expectet: itaque tu illam omni loco ex­pecta. Muze on it alwayes, looke for it in all places, and o'recom­ming your selves, you shall triumph over it. Never did an unblemisht life feare Death.

The last Chapter, where the object [Page 227]of Caemiteries, and Sepulchers, is laid before your eyes, may now againe serve for the last touch, since it is a Theater, where you must play the Tra­gedie of your lives. All this great num­ber of Actors, Hodie mihi Cras tibi. Thinke on that Reader, it may be thy turne to morrow. whose bones and ashes you see there, have every one playd their part, and it may be, that the houre will soone Knell, that you must act yours. Reader, live ever in this providence, a Man cannot too soone resolve to doe that well, which howsomever must be done of necessitie. God grant, that these last lines may once againe reproach thee, the bad estate of thy Conscience; delay not too long this Check to thy selfe, least too late the regreets be then in vaine. Thy salvation is fastned to an in­stant,Momentum est unde pen­det aete [...]ni­tas.consider the infinite number of them, which are already slip't away, when perhaps at that moment, thou wert in estate (if dying) to incurre the punishment of a second Death, and that eternall. If thou trust to thy youth, put thy head out of the window, and thou shalt see carryed to the grave some not so old as thy selfe. If thou relye upon the health, which thou now enjoyest, [Page 228]'tis but a false going-dyall. The calme of a perfect health, Saepe optimus status corpotis pericul [...] susi­muuuml;s. hath oftentimes ushe­red the Tempest of a suddaine Death. What hopest thou for?Hip. hope is de­ceitfull; what stayest thou so [...].Sera nimis Vi­ta est crastina, vive hodie. A wise man ought never to defer till to morrow, what should be done to day. Lastly, what desi­rest thou? The peace of conscience is the only desirable good. Goe on then right forward, thou canst not misse the way which I have chalk't thee.