I Have often thought upon death, and I find it the least of all evills; All that which is past, is as a dreame, and he that hopes or depends upon time coming dreames waking, so much of our life as we have discovered, is already dead; and all those houres which we share even from the breasts of our Mother, untill we return to our Grand-mother the Earth, are part of our dying dayes, whereof even this is one, and those that succeeds are of the same nature, for we dye dayly, and as others have given place to us, so we must in the end give way to others. Physitians in the name of Death, include all sorrow, anguish, disease, calamity, or whatsoever can fall in the life of man, either grievous or unwelcome. But these things are familiar unto us, and wee suffer them every houre; therefore we dye dayly, and I am older since I affirmed it, I know many wisemen that fear to dy, for the change is bitter, […] and flesh would refuse to prove it; besides, the expectation brings terrour and that exceeds the evill. But I do not believe, that any man fears, to be dead, but only the stroke of death, and such are my hopes, that if Heaven be pleased, and Nature renew but my lease for 21. yeares more, without asking longer dayes, I shal be strong enough to acknowledge without mourning, that I was begotten mortall, vertue walkes not in the high-way, though she go per alta, this is strength, and the bloud to vertue, to contemn things that be desired, and to neglect that which is feared.
Why should Man be in love with his setters, though of Gold? Art thou drowned in security, then I say though art perfectly dead? For though thou movest, yet thy soule is buried within thee, and thy good Angell either forsakes his Guard, or sleepes; there is nothing under Heaven, saving a true friend, who cannot be counted within the number of moveables, unto which my heart doth leane.
And this dear freedome hath begotten me this peace, that I mourn not for that end which must be, nor spend one wish to have one minute added to the incertaine date of my yeares. It was no mean apprehension of Lucian, who sayes of Menippus, that in his travels through Hell, hee knew not the Kings of the Earth from other men, but only by their lowder cryings and tears, which was fostered in them through the remorsefull memory of the good dayes they had seen, and the fruitfull havings which they so unwillingly left behind them: he that was well seated, looked back at his portion, and was loath to forsake his Farme, and others either minding marriages, pleasures, profit, or preferment, desired to be excused from Deaths banquet, they had made an appointment with Earth, looking at the blessings, not the hand that enlarged them, forgetting how unclothedly they came hither, or with what naked ornaments they were arrayed.
But were we servants of the precept given, and observers of the Heathens Rule Memento mori, and not become benighted with this seeming felicity, we should enjoy them as men prepaaed to loose, and not wind vp our thoughts upon so perishing a fortune, he that is not slackly strong (as the servants of pleasure) how can he be found unready, to quit the vaile and false visage of his perfection, the soule having shaken off herflesh, doth then set up for her self, and contemning things that are under, shewes what finger hath enforced her; for the soules of Ideots are of the same piece with those of Statesmen, but now and then nature is a fault, and this good guest of ours takes soyle in an unperfect body, and so is slackned from shewing her wonders, like an excellent Musician which cannot utter himself upon a defective instrument. But see how I am swarved, and lose my course, touching at the soule that doth least hold action with death, who hath the surest property in this fraile act, his stile is the end of all flesh, and the beginning of incorruption.
This Ruler of Monuments, leades men for the most part out of this world with their heeles forward, in token that he is contrary to life, which being obtained, sends men headlong into this wretched Theater, where being arrived, their first language is that of mourning, nor in my own thoughts, can I compare man more fitly to any thing, then to the Indian Fig-tree, which being ripened to his full height, is said to decline his branches downe to the Earth; whereof she conceives again, and they become Roots in their own stock.
So Man having derived his being from the Earth, first lives the life of a […]ree, drawing his nourishment as a Plant; and made ripe for death he tends downwards, and is sowed again in his Mother the Earth, where he perisheth not, but expects a quickning. So we see death exempts not a man from being, but only presents an alteration; yet there are some men (I think) that stand otherwise perswaded, Death findes not a worse friend then an Alderman, to whose door I never knew him welcome; but he is an importunate Guest and will not be said nay.
And though they themselves shall affirme, that they are not within, yet the answer will not be taken; and that which heightens their feare is, that they know they are in danger to forfeit their flesh, but are not wise of the payment day; which sickly uncertainty, is the occasion that (for the most part) they step out of this world unfurnished for their generall account, and being all unprovided, desire yet to hold their gravity, preparing their soules to answer in scarlet.
Thus I gather, that Death is unagreeable to most Citizens, because they commonly dy intestate; this being a rule, that when their Will is made, they think themselvs neerer a Grave then before: now they out of the wisdom of thousands, think to scar destiny, from which there is no appeal, by not making a Will, or to live longer by protestation of their unwillingnesse to dy. They are for the most part well made in this world (accounting their treasure by Legions, as Men do Divels) their fortune looks toward them, and they are willing to anchor at it, and desire (if it be possible) to put the evill day far off from them, and to adjourn their ungratefull and killing period.
No these are not the men which have bespoken death, or whose looks are assured to entertain a thought of him.
Death arrives gratious only to such as sit in darknesse, only heavy burthened with grief and irons to the poor Christian, that sits bound in the Galley, to dispairfull Widows pensive prisoners, and deposed Kings; to them, whose fortune runs back, and whose spirits mutinies, unto such death is a redeemer, and the grave a place for retirednesse and rest.
These wait upon the shore of death, and wast unto him to draw neer, wishing above all others, […]o see his starre, that they might be led to his place, wooing the remorslesse Sisters to wind down the watch of their life, and to break them off before the hour.
But Death is a dolefull Messenger to an Usurer, and Fate untimely cuts their threed; For it is never mentioned by him, but when Rumours of Warre, and civill Tumults put him in mind thereof.
And when many hands are armed, and the peace of a City in disorder, and the Foot of the common Souldiers sounds an allarm on his staires, then perhaps such a one (broken in thoughts of his monies abroad, and cursing the Monuments of Coyne which are in his house) can be content to think of death, and (being hastie of perdition) will perhaps hang himselfe, least his Threat should be cut; provided, that he may do it in his Study, surrounded with wealth, to which his eye sends a faint and languishing salute, even upon the turning off, remembring alwayes, that he have time and liberty, by writing, to depute himself as his own heire.
For that is a great peace to his end, and reconciles him wonderfully upon the point.
Herein we all dally with our selves, and are without proofe of necessity, I am not of those, that dare promise to pine away my self in vain glory, and I hold such to be but seat boldnesse, and that dare commit it to be vain, for my part, I think nature should do me great wrong, if I should be so long in dying, as I was in being born.
To speak truth, no man knows the lifts of his own patience; nor can divine how able he shall be in his sufferings, till the storm come (the perfectest vertue being tryed in action) but I would (out of a care to do the best business well) ever keep a guard, & stand upon keeping faith and a good conscience.
And if wishes might find place, I would dy together, and not my mind often, and my body once; that is, I would prepare for the Messengers of Death, sicknesse, and affliction, and not wait long, or be attempted by the violence of pain.
Herein I do not professe my self a Stoick, to hold grief no evill, but opinion, and a thing indifferent.
But I consent with Caesar, and that the suddainest passage is easiest, and there is nothing more awakens our reeve and readinesse to dy then the quieted conscience, str[…]g[…]hened with opinion, that we shall be well spoken of upon Earth by those that are just, and of the Family of Vertue the opposite whereof, is a fury to man, and makes even life unsweet.
Therefore, what is more heavie, then evill fame deserved, or likewise, who can see worse dayes, then he that yet living doth follow at the Funerals of His owne reputation.
I have laid up many hopes, that I am priviledged from that kind of mourning, and could wish that like peace to all those with whom I wage love: I might say much of the commodities that death can sell a man but briefly, Death is a friend of ours, and he that is ready to entertain him, is not at home, whilest I am, my Ambition is not to fore-slow the Tyde, I have but so to make my interest of it, as I may account for it, I would wish nothing but what might better my dayes, nor desire any greater place then the front of good opinion, I make not love to the continuance of dayes, but to the goodnesse of them; nor wish to dye, but referre my self to my houre, which the great Dispenser of all things hath appointed me; yet as I am fraile, and suffered for the first fault, were it given me to chuse, I should not be earnest to see the evening of my age, that extremity of it self being a disease, and a meer return into infancie: So that if perpetuity of life might be given me, I should think what the Greek Poet said, Such an Age is a mortall evill. And sinee I must needs be dead, I require it may not be done before mine enemies, that I be not stripe before Ibe cold, but before my friends; the night was even now; but that name is lost, it is not now late, but early mine eyes begin to discharge their watch, and compound with this fleshly weak nesse for a time of perpetuall rest, and I shall presently be as happy for a few houres, as I had dyed the […]t houre I was borne.
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