The sweete thoughts of death, and eternity. Written by Sieur de la Serre

THOVGHTES OF Eternity.

The Triumph of Death.

O HOW sweet is it, to thinke continually on eternall things! All flies away before our eyes, & in the course of their fight by little and little, lyfe escapes away from vs. The Sunne doth well to rise euery day anew; the moments of its Reigne are mea∣sured within the order of Nature; It must of necessity follow the decay of time, wher∣of it is the dyall; and after it hath presided to all the vnhappy accidents heere beneath, it lends the light of its torch at last to its proper ruine. Though the stars of the night

appeare thicke in the Heauens, with the same aspect, alwayes glittering in wonders, yet can they not choose but wax old; euery instant robbes them of somewhat of their durance, since they shine within Tyme, for not to shine within Eternity. Though the heauens, being quickned by the soueraigne Intelligēce of the Primum mobile, renew their paces euery yeare within the round spaces of their Circles, their turnings yet are coun∣ted; and though they returne agayne by the same way, they incessantly approach to the point that is to termine their Course.

The Fire which entertaynes it selfe in its Globe, insensibly deuoures it selfe; for that Region of its dwelling is a part of the bo∣dy which consumes it selfe. The Ayre, that takes vp all, yet can not fill vp the voyd∣nesse of the Tombe which the last instant of tyme prepareth for it. Though the Phoe∣nix-King of its subiects find a second Cra∣dle within its first Sepulcher, yet at last an∣other selfe, shall aryse againe from its Ashes, though yet vnlike, since it shal not haue the same power to communicate the same ver∣tue to the Species of its of spring. So as it shall dye at last through sorrow of its ste∣rility. Though the Serpent shift the skinne neuer so much, yet doth its Prudence ex∣tend

no further, whiles Age fals a laughing at its cunning, in deuouring vp its being.

The Trees that do euery yeare waxe young agayne, continually grow old. The Spring, the Summer, and the Autumne, are of force indeed to make them change the countenance, but not their Nature: and the Brookes affrighted with this continual vicissitude, go flying into the bosome of their Mother, belieuing they are shrowded but in vayne: for the Ocean carryes their Wracke within the valley of its waues. The Seasons growing from the end of one ano∣ther, as the day from the end of night, shalbe disioyned, and seuered by a new Season, which with it shall bury all the others. The fayrest mayster-peeces of Art, forasmuch as they are layed vpon the ground, pay co∣tinuall homage to the ruine of Tyme, as he that presides within his Empire: witnesse those wonders of the world, which subsist no more then in the memory of men, for a signe onely of what the famous Athens, the triumphant Carthage, the proud Troy haue beene heeretofore, they are now buryed so deep in their ruine, as one can hardly belieue they haue euer beene. They go seeking thē in historyes, but the memory of their raigne is so ould, as they are no otherwise found,

then in Fables only.

Let vs speake of diuers People rather thē of Townes. That great world of men which the Earth hath borne a thousand tymes on its bosome, and the Sea vpon its waues, was drowned at last in the riuer of Xerxes teares, for which he prepared a tombe an hundred yeares before. The Kings haue followed their subiects in this common shipwrack, & all the Pourtraits of Apelles, and the Statues of Lysippus, & of Phidias haue runne like hazard with them by this inuiolable necessity, that the shadow euer followes the body. Well might Alexander cause himself to be surnamed Immortall, but yet purchast not Immortality. He tooke the paynes to seeke out another world, and in the midst of his Triumphes had need of no more, then seauen foote of earth to be buried in.

Cyrus would fayne haue it belieued, that he was Inuincible, yet could Death know wel how to find the defect of his Armes, like as that of Achilles. Nero would needs be ado∣red; but he was sacrificed in punishmēt of his crime. Cresus the richest of all men carried nothing into his Tōbe, but this only griefe of hauing had so much Treasure, & so little Vertue; his riches exempted him not •• whit from the euils wherof our life is full, and at

the end of his terme he dyed as others, with the Pouerty incident thereunto. Cesar, Pyr∣hus and Pompey, who had so many markes of Immortality, had the worse sort of Death, since they al three were vnhappily cōstray∣ned to render their lyues to the assaultes of a most precipitous Death. The which doth let vs see very sensibly, how things that seeme to vs most durable▪ do vanish as light∣ning, after they haue giuen vs some admi∣ration of their being.

The wise men, as well as the valiant (all slaues of one and the selfe same fortune) haue payed the same Tribute to nature. Pla∣to, Socrates & Aristotle may well cause a talke of them, but that is all; for with their lear∣ning they haue yet beene ignorant of the Truth. They haue loued their memory a great deale more then themselus, following a false opinion for to please that of others, wherewith they were puffed vp in all their Actions. They are passed away notwith∣standing, and their diuine Spirits haue ne∣uer beene able to obtaine this dispensation of the Destinies to cōmunicate their diui∣nity to bodies which they haue viuified: so as there is nothing left of them, but a little dust▪ which the aire and wind haue shared betweene them.

The seauen Sages of Greece are dead with the reputation of their worldly wisedome, which is a Folly before God. They were meere Idolatours of their wordly Prudēce, which is a Vertue of the phantasy, more worthy of blame, then prayse, when it hath but Vanity for the obiect. As many Philosophers as haue studied to seeke the knowledge of naturall things, without lif∣ting the eye a little higher, haue let their life runne into a blindnes of malice, and haue left nothing behind them but a sad remem∣brance of their pernicious errours.

Let vs speake of those meruailous works wherin Nature takes pleasure to giue forth the more excellent essayes of her power; I would say, of those beauties of the world, which rauish hearts before they haue meanes to present them to them: As of a Helena, of a Cleopatra, of a Lucretia, of a Penelope, and of a Portia. All these beauties truely were ado∣rable in the East, euen as the Persians Sunne; but in the South the feruour of their Sacri∣ficers began to extinguish; and in the West they destroyed the very Aultars that were e∣rected to their glory. Their Baytes, their Charmes, & their Attractions following in their Nature the course of Roses, haue lasted but a day of the Spring, they haue vanished

with the Subiect wherunto they were tyed, nor doth there remaine any more of them, then a meere astonishment of their shorte durance. Thus it is, that the best things run readily to their end: Time deuoures all, and his greedines is so great, as it cannot be satisfi∣ed but with deuouring it selfe.

Who were able to number the men to whome the Sunne hath lent its light since the birth of the world, and by that meanes keepe accompt of the proud Citties, of the magnificent Pallaces, whereof Art hath gi∣uen the Inuention to men, to the shame of Nature: the imagination is too seely to reach vnto this But. And yet how great soeuer the Name therof be, the shadowes of their bo∣dies appeare no more to the light of our daies; the steps of their foundations, and the memory of their being are buried within the Abysses of Tyme, and nothing but Vertue can be said to be exempt from Death. All things of the world hauing learned of Na∣ture the language of change, neuer speake in their fashion, but of their continuall vicissi∣tude. The Sunne running from his South to its West, seemes to preach in its lāguage no∣thing els vnto vs, but this cruell necessity. which constraynes it to fly repose, and to cōmence without cease, to warpe the light∣some

webbe of dayes, and length of Ages. I admire the Ideas of that Philosopher, whiles he would mantayne that all created thinges do find their beginning within the conca∣uity of the Moone, without doubt the in∣constancy of this Starre afforded him those thoughtes, since euery thing subsisting heer beneath, is subiect to a continuall flow and ebbe.

The Heauens tell vs, in running round their circles, how they pull all with them. The Starres illumine not the night, but to the comming of the last, which is to extin∣guish their light. The Elements, as opposits, reygne not but within the tyme of the truce which nature afforded them, since the ruine of the Chaos; and their emnity therefore is yet so great, as they are not pleased but with destructiō of all the workes they do. If they demaund the Rockes & Forests what they are doing, they will answere, they are a counting their yeares, since they can do no∣thing but grow old. The fayrest Springes, and the youngest Brookes publish aloud with the language of their warbles, and of their sweet murmur, that euery thing in the world inseparably pursues the paces of its Course; yea the Earth it selfe which is im∣moueable, as the Center where all conclu∣des,

being not able to stirre, to fly far from it selfe, lets it selfe to be deuoured by the O∣cean, the Ocean by Tyme, and Tyme by the soueraygne decrees which from all Eter∣nity haue limited its durance.

S. Augustine endeauouring to seeke out the soueraigne God within Nature, demaū∣ded of the Sunne, if it were God; and this Starre let him see, that it borrowed its light from another Sun without Eclypse, which shined within the Bower of Eternity. He made the like demaūd of the Moone, whose visage, alwayes inconstant, made answere for it, and assured this holy Personage, that it had nothing diuine, but light, within it, which yet it held in homage of the Torch of day. He enquired of the Heauens the selfe same thing, but their motion incompatible with an essence purely diuine, put him out of doubt.

How many are there seene of these feeble spirits who seeke the soueraygne God with∣in Greatnesses? but what likelyhood is there to find it there? Thrones and Empires sub∣sist not, but in the spaces which Fortune af∣fords them; her bowle serues them as a foū∣dation. Alas! what stability can we esta∣blish in their being? Crownes haue nothing goodly in them but the name only; nor rich

but apparence: for if they knew how much they weighed▪ and if the number of cares & thornes which are mingled with the Ru∣bies & Pearles wherwith they are enriched could be seene, the most vnhappy would be trampling them vnderfoot to auoyd the en∣counter of new misfortunes. Kings and Princes are well the greatest of the Earth, but yet not the happiest; for that their Great∣nes markes their ruyne in their Eminency, and the Lawes of the world persuade vs to belieue, that great Misfortunes are tyed to great Powers.

Whence it is that great Monarches do ne∣uer seeme to resent little dolours, nor suffer any thing with feeble displeasures. The least storme with comes vpon them, is a kind of ship wracke to their resentments; all their wounds all mortall, they cannot fall but in∣to precipices; and the crosses of their For∣tune make them to keep company with Iob on the dungill. Let them tread Cloth of Gould vnder their feet, as Tiberius did; let them satiate their hunger with pearles as did Marke-Antony; let them metamorphize the feelings of their Pallaces lyke to a starry Heauen, as Belus King of Cyprus; and with the help of Art let them hold the seasons at their becke for their contentments, as Sarda∣napalus:

notwithstanding needs must these Magnificences, and these Pleasures vanish before them in an instant, to let them see the weakenes of their Nature, since the incon∣stancy of Time is annexed to all that which subsists heere beneath. In such sort, as their Greatnesses, and delights do insensibly glide away with life; & though their reigne hath beene ful of flowers, the remembrance ther∣of brings forth but thornes.

If Kings establish the foundation of their greatnesses vpon their Crownes, let them cast their eyes vpon their figures, round & euer mouing, and thereby shall they know the instability thereof. And then besids, it is no great matter to be able to commaund a world of people, if they make their lawes absolute, through force of Reason, rather then that of Tyranny. There is a great deale more honour to merit a Crowne then to possesse it, which made Thales Melesinus say that a vertuous man enuoyed all the riches of the world, if vertue be the greatest trea∣sure of it. So that if they trust in their Scep∣ters to defend themselues from the strokes of Fortune, they consider not the while she is able inough to snatch them out of their hands, and cruell inough to metamorphize them into a sheephooke, and to reduce them

to such a state, as shall moue Pitty rather then Enuy.

What vanity were it for one to haue a Scepter in the hand, and a Crowne vpon the head, if with all these markes of Greatnesses he approches to the Tombe, to bury vp the Glory of it? What pleasure to see the greatest part of the world to be vnder him, if they haue altogether the self same way of Death? The great ones run as swift as the little, in this carriere, where Miseries & Misfortunes accompany our steps. How is it possible, that man which is but dust & ashes, can find assurance in Greatnesses? Ah! What say you then, is it not well knowne that dust and a∣shes are so much the more subiect to be car∣ried away with the wind, as they are set in a higher place? The Mountaines are alwaies enuironed with precipices, and thunders neuer turne their faces, but to the highest tops. So as, they who apprehend a Fall, should clip the winges of their Ambition, for not to fly too high. But if one would seeke for Greatnesses, it were necessary to be in vertue. The Magnificences of Darius his Army serued but as a funerall pompe to his Death. The Preparations to his Triumph were the instruments of his Ouerthrow. In so much as the Lawrels of his Hopes crow∣ned

him not, but in the Tombe, in signe that in dying he had vanquished all the mi∣shaps of his life. So do we see the Glory of the world to fly before our eyes with such swiftnes, as we can hardly follow it, throgh the amazement wherein she hath left vs.

I admire the last thoughts of Celadine▪ when as he ordayned, that after his Death they should cause his shirt to be shewed to the whole Army, and that he who carried it should cry aloud, Behould heere that which the greatest of the world seems to carry from the world. This valiant Captaine knew the verity of his miseries by the vigill of his Shipwracke, seeing that of all his Treasures he could car∣ry away with him but the valew of a Shirt. This is the share of the greatest Kings. Na∣ture thinks good to afford them Scepters in the cradle, & she must rob thē in the Sepul∣cher. And howbeit they are borne as little Gods on Earth, yet sticke they not to dye like other men; so as if they differ in the mā∣ner of lyuing, they are all equall in the ne∣cessity of dying.

S. Lewis would rest vpon a bed of Ashes before his Death, to let vs see, that he was but Ashes; yet is it to be considered that the beliefe which he had, proceeded from the di∣uine Fire wherwith he was inflamed; and

resenting in that manner the diuine flames, by little and little he went consuming of his life; he would become ashes vpon ashes, both throgh loue and humility. Dauid did charge himselfe with a sacke of Ashes, to diminish the flash of his Greatnesses, and the trouble that possessed him. The knowledge of him∣selfe perswaded him, to serue himselfe with this cūning, shewing forth without, what was within. His Flesh couered his ashes for to couer his defects, and he would haue his Ashes to couer his flesh, for to discouer the miseries of his Nature.

When I consider how the greatest of the Earth, are of Earth, and that all their Riches, and all their Greatnesses may not be had but in flying towards the Center of their ruine, where they finish with them; I cry out, as that Philosopher did, how the world is a Body of smoke, which the Ayre of Tyme disperseth by little and litle: for the eyes be∣hould, quite through their teares, the conti∣nuall decay of the best obiects, and they can hardly be knowne within their inconstan∣cy, so different are they from themselues. It is a pleasure to read the Histories of Ages past, because all the wonders which appeare vpon the Theather of their Reigne, are but dreames, and vayne Idea's that subsist not

but by the opinion of those that will lend credit vnto them. It were in vayne to seeke Rome at this day within Rome, when scarce can be found within the Temple of memo∣ry, that of the ruine of its Aultars. Tyber on∣ly which is alwayes a flying, hath remay∣ned stable, and permanent. The golden Pallace of Nero, the Stoues of Diocletiant, he Bathes of Antoninus, the Sephizone of Se∣uerus, the Colossus of Iulius, and the Amphi∣theater of Pompey; all these proud wonders haue not beene able to resist the encounters of a first Age; and the second hath caused the day of their ruine to spring with it. So as the Labourers, the works, & their proprietaries haue followed the lot of the decay, which was naturall to them. If they enquire what are become of those magnificences of Cyrus, those pōps of Mark-Antony, those prosperities of Alexander, & those greatnesses of Darius; I shall answere with that Philosopher, that they haue passed away like a waue without leauing any signe of their being behind thē.

Philip, that great King of Macedon, gaue in charge to one of his Pages to awake him e∣uery morning, with the sweet harmony of this discourse, forsooth, To remember that he was man, & by consequence subiect to death. This Generous Prince was afraid to be da∣zeled

by the flash of Fortune, and to forget himselfe in the presence of his Greatnesses, which therfore made him to impose this law vpon himselfe, of musing euery day on the Miseries of his condition, for feare least for∣getfulnes should conuince him of this vani∣ty, which ordinarily is annexed vnto great prosperities. He set open his eares to the soūd of this verity, that he, and al his Greatnesses were nothing els but dust, and that the cruel necessity of dying was continually occupi∣ed in building him his Tombe, to bury there with him both his Glory, & his For∣tune. Remember, that you are Man, said the Page to him, or to say better (least yet the name of Man may seeme to flatter you) that you are a little Corruptiō shut vp within a skin of flesh, quickened with a little breath of life, whose light may be extinguished with the least wind; you are, notwithstan∣ding all that, the greatest of Men, but yet are not your Greatnesses exempt from Death, nor the Miseries that forerunne its ariuall.

Remember that you are man, and that your Scepter and your Crowne shal not ransome you from the Tombe. Remember that you are man, subiect to a great deale more disasters, then the Heauen hath Starres, and the sea Rockes. Remember that you are man, that is to

say, the shutle-cocke of Fortune, & brought into so deplorable an estate, as you can af∣ford but matter of Pitty in consideration of your Miseries. Remember that you are man, to serue as pasture one day to the wormes, and as matter to the ayre and wynd for to play with your dust, as with a subiect pro∣per to their sports. Remember that you are man, yet a slaue of this soueraigne, and absolute power, whose Scepter and Crowne you hold in homage, not knowing the limits of the tyme of your Reigne. Remember that you are man; it may be for an instant, or els for an houre, or yet for a day; the which should make this remembrance alwaies present to you, how your condition is mortall & tran∣sitory. You are man, dying without cease, and running without intermission towards the Tombe, withal things of the world.

This great King was affraid to wander within the Labyrinth of his Greatnesses, & this feare of his was founded vpon the rea∣son of humane weakenes, wherewith we are all borne. He saw himselfe raysed vpon the highest Throne of Fortune, with the power to commaund a world of people as tributaries all of his Authority? His Armes alwayes victorious found no resistance but in sight of Humility. His enemies enuious of

his good hap would change both their ha∣tred and their enuy into admiration. So as being accomplished with the sweetest pro∣sperities which are found in life, he feared with reason the shifting of the wheele, and iustly apprehended the turning of the Me∣dall; as he was most cunning in the know∣ledge of the maximes of the world, which had taught him by experience, how Tem∣pests attend a calme vpon the waters, & on the land griefes do succeed contentments. Hence it was, that he tooke such pleasure in the acmonishment of the Page, when as e∣uery morning he so made him, to remem∣ber that he was Man, & that it was tyme to rise, to looke into the accidents wherewith our life is full. This great Prince is dead in musing vpon Death, and he that aduertised him so, pursued full neere the paces of his course. The King, the Scepter, the Crowne, the Riches, the Greatnesses, the kingdome and all his subiects together are vanished frō our eyes, and are slid into the Abysses of Tyme, where things that seemed most du∣rable to vs, are quite buryed.

Nabuchodonozor led the Princes of Ierusa∣lem as prisoners into Babylon, but the Iay∣lour, the Prisoners, and the Prison it selfe are ingulfed within the nothing. The Empe∣rour

Maximilian caused his Coffin to be carri∣ed before him, taking much pleasure to be∣hould the house, where he was to make so long soiourning. Away then with all these vayne Greatnesses of the world, since they so post away like a Torrent, since they melt like snow, and since they passe like a light∣ning. All those, who now are their Idola∣tours, shal one day sacrifice themselues with griefe, for hauing runne so long tyme after those vayne shadowes: for as many as loue them, loue not themselues; all those who gape after them are enemies of their proper senses, forcing by an extreme Tyranny their wil to run the way of precipices. The staires that serue to mount vp by, haue the same vse in descending; so as from the highest top of Thrones & Empires, there is seene no other way then that of the fall. By those waies of Greatnes they mount not vp to heauen: the glory of the Earth shuts vp its course within the earth; whence it comes that the Palmes & Lawrels, which Honor doth prodigally share to men, do fade & wither, how greene soeuer, in the same soyle where they began to spring.

Well may they reckon vp the Crownes which Alexander. purchased with his com∣bats, but not let vs see their matter, since all

is dead with him. They speake much of Sci∣pio's triumphs, but that is all▪ for tyme hath imposed silēce to the Oracles of al the Muses that published his renown. Let them bring forth hardly if they can, vpon the Theater of the world the happyest Monarch of the Ages past If Hanniball appeare the first, they shall seeme to represent him, but as after ha∣uing beene Conquerour of a world of men, he was vanquished by his owne vices, and consequētly reduced to such a point of infa∣my & misfortune at once, as they talk rather of his defeats then of his triumphs. If Pompey appeare after him, they shal cōsider how his disasters defaced the lustre of his first prospe∣rities. If Cesar come in his rancke, they shall marke how the Thornes of his death did wither the Roses of his lyfe. The great Pyr∣rhus cannot appeare but ouerwhelmed with the burden of his misfortunes, through the blow of a stone, or rather by a heape of earth in signe that his greatnesses; and his Tro∣pheys were to be buried in the earth by a re∣lation of the nature of this Element, with that of his Glory. Nero may heere appeare with splendour during those fiue yeares of his raygne, but so remēbred, as that hauing caused his Statues to be adored, he was trā∣pled vnder foot in punishment of this va∣nity.

Parmenides enioyed a calme of lyfe, but he found rockes and tempests in his Death by the poyson that was gyuen him. Pelosidas was happy in his Spring, in his Summer, & in his Antumne, but the Winter of his old age made him resent a great deale of more miseries, then he had tasted pleasures in his younger yeares. Marke-Antony was raysed to so high a degree of Honour, as he stood in competēcy with his brother-in-Law about the Crowne of the whole world at once; & yet notwithstanding his miseries made him an homicide of himselfe, through a stroke of despaire. Maximus came to the Empire from the lowest degree of a seruile condition, but from the tyme that he was on the ridge of Greatnesse, did Fortune make him to descēd so low, by the same degrees he mounted vp with, as his Misfortunes had no relation with his Prosperities. Thus passeth the glory of the world, leauing a great deale more a∣stonishment behind, then euer it afforded admiration.

If a great Architect should seeme to per∣swade vs to belieue, that our dwelling house were on the point of falling, and that we were in daunger to be buried in its ruines; I would imagine with my selfe, we should lyue alwaies in payne, to auoyd the effects

of his presages, seeking with all sollicitude the meanes to eschew those perils. So as if I turne the Meddall, it wil appeare, this totte∣ring, and ruinous house to be nothing els, then that of the world, & wherof that great Architect, who hath layd the first foundati∣ons, hath affoarded vs the truth of this assu∣rance, that it shall fall to ruine very soone. The Heauen, and the Earth shall passe away. What solidity then can we establish heere beneath in this soyle, as well of Pouerty as of Infa∣my, since it shakes vnder our feet through its continuall vitissitude? The ruines thereof appeare without cease before our eyes, & in the course of its deficiency, our life pursues the same way. And neuertheles with what blindnes do we fall a sleep, in the ship of our deliciousnes, not considering how it floats vpon the stormy sea of the world, as abundant in shipwrackes as the land of Mis∣haps. We must neuer turne away our eyes from the obiect of Inconstancy, since it is naturall to all that which hath subsistence heere beneath. The Monarchy began with the Assyrians; It passed to the Persians; from the Persians to the Macedonians; from the Macedonians to the Romanes, and at this day the Empire is in Germany. In so much, as after that this so famous, and illustrious a

Crowne, shall haue run through the foure corners of the earth, it shall resolue into earth, following the course of those that shal haue possessed the title, eyther by right of hazard, or by the right of Birth. So as, if Heauē & Earth do passe, whatsoeuer shall beare the image of the creation, is cōprized with∣in this reuolution of Ages, where all con∣cludes in a last end. There is nothing so great in the world, as the Hart which con∣temnes all Greatnesses. Tyme, as Mayster of all which is in Nature, lets forth Crow∣nes and Scepters to Kings; to some for a day, to others for a moneth, to some others for a yeare, and to others for more; but af∣ter the terme is expired, it giues no more dayes; one succeds in the place of another▪ vnder one and the selfe same Law of con∣dition. Let the infinite number of Kings heere present themselues that haue raygned vpon Earth; and if euery one hath had his Crowne, it may likewise be sayd, that ech hath had his Tombe.

Then seeke not Greatnesses, my Soule, but in vertue, and in the glorious contempt of things of the Earth. Thou seest how Mag∣nificences haue not charmes but for a day, their glittering fadeth with their light, and what foundation soeuer they haue, they

carry in their being the Necessity of their ruine. To what end shouldst thou raise thy Ambition vpon Thrones, if they be States of vnhappines, and inconstancy? Enuy not Kings, their Crownes, nor Scepters, since it is the title of a transitory glory. Felicity cō∣sists not, for to rule with Empire, but rather to find repose of life in the condition wher∣in he is borne. And what more sweet re∣pose can one looke for, then that of desiring nothing in the world? This is a pleasing paine to be alwayes in vnrest, to find that so∣ueraigne good which we seeke for; I would say that Eternity, where delightes are dura∣ble in their excesse. When thou shouldst be exalted aboue all the Greatnes of the Earth; what happines, and what contentement would be left thee, since the Tyme of their possession glides without respit, with the pleasures where with they are quickned: In such sort as if at the rising of the sunne thou receyuest Sacrifices in homage, at the setting thou shalt find thy selfe stript by Fortune, or by Death. Fixe not thy thoughts then, but on the obiects which hould touch with Tyme; nor seeke thou euer to runne after things that fly away. Thy immortall nature cannot eye but Eternity; sigh then inces∣santly after its Glory, if thou wilt one day

haue it in possession.

There be some who seeke their repose, & all their pleasure in Riches, as if Gould had this Vertue to eternize their contentments. Set not thy hart vpon things of the world, saith the Apostle. When the Poets would speake of Riches, they put before vs the Gould of the riuers of Hebrus, and Paectolus, to let vs see how they fly away from our eyes, as the waters. Put case a man should possesse all the trea∣sures of the earth, yet should he not seeme to be richer awhit for all that, since he were but the guardian, and not the owner of those treasures. Riches consist not in pos∣sessing much, but rather in contenting ones selfe with a little. Cresus could neuer satisfy his couetous desire during his life, which induced his enemies to fill his Body with the gould wherewith he could not fill his Soule. What Folly to seeke Eternity in Ri∣ches, where is ordinarily found but Death. This very man heere made accompt to stuffe his Coffers with Gould & Syluer, & knew at last, that his Treasures were so many fa∣tall Instruments that serued for nothing but to take away his life; so as being deceiued in his hopes, he became sollicitous to con∣serue very charily the meanes of his losse, & of his ruine. He therfore that goes to seeke

for the Riches of the East, puts himselfe to the mercy of the waues; and in seeking the repose of his life approaches so neere to Death, as he is distant from it no more than the thicknes of the shipboard. What fee∣blenesse of humane Spirit, to put in ha∣zard whatsoeuer one holdes most deere on Earth, for the purchase of a little Earth! I had rather a great deale be Iob on the dun∣ghill, then Cresus on the woodpile; for the one flouted at Fortune in his miseries, and the other had recourse to Solon, to re∣pent himselfe for not hauing followed the way of Pouerty, rather then that of Riches, since the latter led him to De∣ath.

Crates the Theban considering that he flo∣ted without cease within this vast sea of the world, despised Riches, for feare to suffer Shipwracke with so heauy a fraight. The Wheele may well run about, but can ne∣uer get forth of the lymits of its Circle: so lykewise man may well trauayle, & runne ouer the world to heape vp treasures, but he fetches the turne only of the Circle of his lyfe the while; of necessity most the Ship be landing at this last port of the Sepulcher, where he finds himselfe as poore, as when he entred into the cradle. I know not for

whome the Richman trauayles, for before the iourney of his trauayle be finished, his dayes are runne out, and being on the point to reape the fruite of his passed paines, death gathers those of the repose of his lyfe. The Mercinary soules who lend forth their con∣science to Interest, insteed of their Money▪ sell, as in told Coyne, the portion they pre∣tend in Heauen, for a little Earth. Blind as they be, they spin the web of their capti∣uity, & forge the Armes which are one day to reuenge the enormity of their crymes. A∣bused soules! they consider not how all the Gould of the world is yet now in the world howbeit the greatest part therof hath beene possessed by an infinite number of Mor∣tals, and so shall leaue them behind them as others, how rich soeuer they be now, with∣out carrying ought els into the Tombe, but griefe for not hauing made so good vse of them, as they should.

To what point of misery, was reduced the impious Richman of the Ghospell in a moment, after he had possessed an infinite number of Treasures? He behoulds himself in estate of begging a drop of water for to quench his thirst. To what end serued all his pleasures past, but to augment his present paynes? He employed his Riches to pur∣chase

Hell, and all his goods to gayne the euill he endures. O humane Folly! To put ones selfe in hazard to loose Eternity for en∣ioying of a fading Treasure! Good is not good, but as permanent; and yet looke they after transitory delights, that subsist not but in flying. Demaund they of Cyrus, what hath he done with all his Riches, & he will answere, he hath left them in the soyle that brought them forth. Xerxes hath enioyed thē as well as he, and as he, so hath he borne no part thereof into his Sepulcher. They may cause monuments to be built to their Me∣mory, but Tyme that deuoures all, hath wrought new Tombes, for their Tombes; in such fort, as if yet there be memory of their death, it is but onely by reason of their lyfe. They make a question, which of the two was more rich, eyther Alexander or Dio∣genes, the one whose Ambition could not be bounded with the whole extent of the Earth; and the other whose desire & hopes were shut vp in the space of his Tub. For me, I do hould with Diogenes, since he is the richest who is best content.

I could neuer yet imagine the pleasure which Caligula tooke to wallow vpō Gold; for if the lustre of that mettall, contented his eyes, he might haue beheld himselfe a far

of, since the eye requires a distance propor∣tioned to the force, or feeblenes of its loo∣kes; but deceaued as he was, he considered not the while how this Gould, & He, diffe∣red not awhit, but only in colour, since they were both of Earth: And in effect they can not authorize its pleasure, but through the relatiō which was there of the nature of the one, with that of the other. The Poets re∣present to vs how the Goulden fleece was guarded by a Dragon, lyke as the Goulden Aples of Hesperides; and the Morall which may be gathered from these Fables, is no∣thing els but the danger, and payne which is inseparable from the conquest of Trea∣sures.

The Historians obserue, that in all the Countries where this mettall abounds, the inhabitants are so poore, as they haue scarse a ragge of linnen to couer their nakednesse withall. What may we imagine in contem∣plation of this Verity, but that all the Gould of the Earth cannot tell how to enrich a mā while the riches of the world are borne and dye in a pouerty worthy of compassion? Then seeke not, my Soule, other Riches, then those of Eternity. Thou canst not tell how to buy heauen withall the gold of the earth; and without the enioying of its feli∣cities,

all goods are counterfait, & al Sweet∣nesses but full of Bitternes. Imagine thee now to lyue vnder the Reigne of a goulden Age, and that through an excesse of Fortune thou treadest vnder foot all the Pearles of the Ocean, and all the goulden haruest of the Indies. And not to loose thy selfe in this imagination, consider the estate of this feli∣city, & tast in conceyt, a part of the pleasures which thou wert to possesse, if effects should answere to thy thoughts, and then boldly confesse with the Wiseman, how all these transitory goodes are treasures of Vanity, & that in the iust pretensions thou hast to an Eternall glory, all these atomes of Greatnes can serue thee no more, but for obiect of thy contempt.

Suppose thou wert the absolute Mistresse of the world, what good couldst thou hope for in the fruition therof, if all be replete with euils? Crimes haue Temples there, & Vices haue Aultars. All the Idolls are of goulden Calues, and such as make professiō to follow Vertue, are within the order of a malady of a contagious Spirit, according to the common opinion. So as, through a Law of Tyme, the most laudable Actions are subiect to reproaches. Leaue then all the goods of the Earth to the Earth, since thou

art not borne for them, & seeke as a pledge in the sweet thoughtes of Eternity, for the accomplishmēt of thy delightes. The world is not able to satiate thy desires, since it hath nothing in it, that is not transitory. And howbeit, it be susteyned in its inconstancy, it leaues not to wax old in changing, & to ruine it selfe by little and little, in ruyning all things. Thinke neuer then but of Eterni∣ty. Speake not but of Eternity. Let thy de∣sires, and thy Hopes regard but Eternity. Let alwayes Eternity be in thy memory, & the contēpt of the world within thy hart. If thou beest capabel of Hatred, be it but for the Earth; and if thou beest capable of Loue, be it but for Heauen, since it is the mansion of Eternity.

There are others who seeke their content∣ment in magnificent Pallaces as if they were shelters of proofe, against disasters and mis∣fortunes. Charles the VIII. tooke pleasure to build very proud Fabrikes, as belieuing it may be, to close his eyes in dying, through the Splendour of their wonders; but his lot, an Enemy of his hopes, snatched away his last breath, being sound of health, vpon a straw bed, and in place encompassed round with Misery. Heliogabalus likewise was dece∣ued of his purpose, for being on the point

when the ••enormity of his Crymes had pas∣sed sentence of his Death on behalfe of the Gods, he shuts himselfe in the fairest hall of his Pallace, and prepares for his Enemies all the Richest instruments of Death he could recouer, as thinking to sweeten the bitter∣nes thereof with so goodly armes: but his fo∣resight was vnprofitable, for the Gods per∣mitted, that as he had tasted the sweetest ple∣asures of life, he should feele in Death the cruelst dolours. Hermenides had, to much pur∣pose surely, caused very stately Pallaces to be erected in the dominion of his Empire, since he was to dy in his Charriot, as in a rouling House that should conduct him to his Tombe. That famous Temple of Salo∣mon was twice ruined by the Assyrians, then reedified by the Iewes, and againe was rui∣ned by the Romanes. And after that Traian had caused that Magnificient Bridge to be built vpō Danubius, the waues neuer left roa∣ring vntill such tyme as they had buried in their bosome the last marke of its being. These Piramids of Egypt which with their sharp points seemed to outface the Heauens haue beene quite ouerthrowne by tyme, within such an Abysse of ruine, as they put them now in the rancke of dreames, and fa∣bles.

Besides, it seemes in all these magnificēt Fabrikes how Art & Nature contribute but a backewardnes. The Stones and Tymber are made to be dragged by force, and if they lend but eares to the pushes of this cōstraint, they shall marke how the waggons that beare them, and the Engines which susteine them, seeme to grone vnder the burthen, as if they complayned of their Folly. I esteeme a farre greater pleasure to dy vnder the roofe of a Cottage, then vnder the fret-worke see∣ling of a Pallace, because in that they cannot be touched with griefe to abandō the dwel∣ling, and in this place, the Riches they ad∣mire therein, seeme to make vs very sensible of the priuation. To what end serued the great Buildings which the Queene Semira∣mis caused to be erected on the face of the E∣arth, but for matter of shame and confusion in their Ruine? The Queene of Saba had a whole towne for her House, and after her Death, both she, and all her Greatnesses were enclosed within a little space of a Cu∣bits breadth. What folly to go about to build vpon a Territory, where one lodges not but in passing as a Pilgrime? From the tyme we are borne, if we were but capable of Action we should be occupied in making our Se∣pulcher, since Tyme seemes to lead vs there∣unto

unto with an incredible swiftnes. So as if the infirmity of building do seize & possesse vs, let vs build Temples to the Glory of him who prepares the Eternity.

What is become of that proud Babylon, is it not credible that its onely ruine eterni∣zed the name? The Locrians built a Tem∣ple to the Sun, but the Moone its Sister be∣ing iealous of this Glory, obteyned of the Destines the sentence of it ruine; for du∣ring the raygne of the Night, the Ayre, and wind did satiate, their hūger with its Ashes. When I thinke of this dreadfull vicissitude of Tyme, which alters all things, vnto the point of making vs quite to loose the remē∣brance of them, I contemne whatsoeuer is presented to my eyes, and make no recko∣ning thereof, since so in a moment the fay∣rest obiects change the face. If your first Father were now risen agayne, he would quite forget the world, for a thousand tymes in an age hath it changed the countenance. Let vs loue the change then in this incon∣stant and transitory lyfe, and let euery one follow his lot without constraynt & with∣out tyranny in the way of vertue, for to ar∣riue at this pleasing habitation of Eternity.

Man makes greatly to appeare both his vanity, and his Pride in these Buildings,

where he would seeme to establish, if he could, the foundation of some shelter, that might be of proofe agaynst the stormes of death. But the crime of his vnknowledge∣ment is so enormous a thing, as seemes to pull on his head the thunders of Heauen. Learne thou Earth (sayth Wisedome, speaking of man) to put thy selfe vnder foot, it is thy pro∣perty so to be trampled on: for if thou flewest in the Ayre▪ it could be but as dust, so as thine Arrogancy cannot subsist but in folly. If man would consi∣der without cease to what point he is redu∣ced, his spirit would not be able to conceiue but thoughtes of Humility. Before his birth he was nothing; after his birth, he is so smal as we dare not speake it, for in a word is he nothing but a dunghill, couered ouer with snow, where the disposition of corruption prepares a food, and nourishment for the wormes: whereof then should he seeme to wax proud, whose end is pouerty and cor∣ruption? So as if he take any vanity at the Suns rising for the Greatnes he possesseth, at the setting of this Starre, we shall all be e∣quall.

Marke attentiuely (sayth S. Iohn Chryso∣stome) the sepulchers of Dead men, & seeke round about for some signes of their passed Greatnesses. For if those Tombes do send

forth any flash of Magnificēce to thine Eyes, conuey thy Thoughtes thereinto, and thou shalt find but corruption. Their ioy is ex∣tinct with their life, their pleasures past ouer with their dayes, and all their riches are abi∣ding in their Coffers, for to publish their fol∣ly touching the vnprofitable care they haue had in heaping them together. They haue left their Pallaces at the first terme of their possessiō without so much leasure only as to accompt with their Host. Earth, that art but Earth, in thy natiuity, Earth in thy lyfe, in Earth the end! wherfore art thou proud, since thou art but flesh in apparence, & pu∣trifaction in effect? I commend greatly the custome of those of the Molucca's, who build not their houses but for the tyme only they imagine to lyue, and so dying oblige their children to do the same. Arpilaus King of the Medes had caused a very stately Pallace to be built, where he would end his dayes: but from the instant that Tyme had strooke the houre of his retrait, his enemyes entred into this Pallace, and cast him forth of the window. Cleophon the Lydian dyed ouer∣whelmed with the ruines of his house, and Iulianus notes how he had no other tombe. Rid thy selfe, my Soule, from these vayne ambitions, so to lodge in Pallaces, knowing

how the worms in pledge do harbour with in the house of thy body. Thou beholdest so many goodly Edifices, whose Gould and Marble seeme to defye Tyme, as not able to destroy them, yet within an age they abate their pride and with easy paces begin to fol∣low the way of their ruine, reteyning som∣thing of the nature of those workemen. Iob had a farre better grace vpon his dunghill, then on a Throne, for what spectacle was it to put ashes & corruptiō vpon cloth of gold? Leaue these pallaces to men of the world, who blind with a brutish ignorāce do esta∣blish the foūdation of their pleasures in thē. Thou knowest, that death enters euery where, and since thy God dyed in a desert Mountayne, wherein the excesse of his Mi∣sery he had not a drop of water to quench his thirst, shut thine eyes to the glistering of those guilded feelings, and suffer not this foule reproach at any tyme to expire vpon flowers, whiles thy Sauiour gaue vp the ghost on thorns. Do thou follow him then in his glorious actiōs, & build thee a Tem∣ple within thy selfe, where ech moment of thy lyfe thou mayst addresse to him vowes thou art to make for Eternity; since the goodly Pallaces of his dwelling are of proof against the inconstancy of the world.

If the imagination could attract to it selfe all the obiects in distance from it, to repre∣sent them in an instant before thy eyes; how many mischiefes should we behould? How many Deathes, and how many dying liues? They hould, there is no vacuity in nature, I will easily belieue it, since miseries seeme to take vp all. This is the accident, so insepa∣rable to man, and which accompanies him to his Graue. Euery one hath his dolours affected in like sort as his pleasures are, but some ripen as they put forth, and others ga∣ther strength in their feeblenes, to eternize their durance. How dreadfull would this Theater of the world seeme to be, if one should behold all the Tragedies which are acted therin. Phirra quenches her fury with her fathers bloud. Eumenides is reuenged of her mother through poyson. Curtius buryes his brother within his cradle. Pernesius plucks out the eyes of his sister Etna. And Symocles, being an enemy to his race, sets the Pallace on fire where his parents were assembled; and I should thinke the fire of his choller was the first sparke of that consuming fire. Nero seekes nourishment, for to satisfy his cruelty in the bowels of his mother; but God permitted the Executioners should hold the place of delinquēts on the day of their death,

when they gaue vp their lyfe to the assaults of a thousand dolours, a great deale more cruell then Death it selfe.

Consider all these dismall accidents, my Soule, which happen euery moment. One is consumed with fire, as Pliny, another is hanged, as Polycrates; heere one is cast downe headlong, as Lycurgus; there was another burned with a thunder-bolt, like Esculapius. There haue some been drowned in the sea, as Marcus Marcellus. Curtius was swallowed vp in a bottomeles pit. Eschyllus the Philoso∣pher had his head crushed with a Tortesse shell▪ Cesar was slaine by such as he tooke to be his friends. Cicero's head was cut off vpon the boot of his caroch. Euripides was deuored by dogs. Cleopatra died with the sting of a serpent, or rather with that of her despaire. Socrates is poysoned; Aristo dieth of famine; Seneca through the point of a launcet. Cold tooke away the lyfe from Neocles; Tarquinius Priscus was strangled with a fish-bone; Lucia the daughter of Aurelius dyes with the point of a needle. Elacea drownes her lyfe in the ice of a glasse of water. Anacreon is choked with swallowing but the kernell of a raysin. And Fabius the Pretour suffered shipwracke in a messe of Milke, and the encounter with a little hayre was the Rocke he fell vpon. So∣phocles

and Diagoras dyed of ioy, and Philemon with too much laughing, as well as Zeuxis. Fabius Maximus dyed in the field, as Lepidus. I will nor make vse of the examples of our ages, since they are so fresh; and it sufficeth that their memory is as sad as odious.

Thou seest then, my Soule, how death disportes himselfe with Crownes; Thou seest how he tramples Scepters vnder foot, & how in the presse of the world, his Sith spareth not any one. Such a one to day ly∣nes Contented, who to morrow shall dye Miserable. One moment onely seuers vs from death and mishap, there is no other respit betweene lyuing and dying, then that of an instant, which makes me verily to be∣lieue, that Being, and not Being in man dif∣fer not awhit, since he lyues not but dying, and moues not but to bound his actions in the Tombe whither he postes without stop. Earth! Who art but Earth! Earth within the cradle. Earth in the course of lyfe, and Earth in the end! Stay a while, and if Time which leades thee will not suffer it, consider in so hasting to the funerall, how the Earth goes to ioyne with Earth, and that what∣soeuer is in the world, doth follow step by step, to resume its first forme in the dust. They would faine haue made Iob belieue on

his dunghill that he had lost all, and that in his losse he was brought to the last point of misery; but I imagine the contrary, for he sitting on his dunghill, was found to be in his proper heritage: and by how much dee∣per he was buryed in corruption, so much was he the forwarder in the possession of himselfe, if it be true, that man is nought but mire and durt.

Let Kings make a shew of their Great∣nesses, eyther in feasts, as Lucullus, or in apparrell, as Tiberius, or be it in other sorts of Magnificences, all their instruments of glory, are of Earth, and vanish into smoke as well as they. If the ashes of Kings and Subiects were mingled together, it were im∣possible to distinguish the one from the o∣ther, since they are all of the same Nature, and al carrying the face of a like forme. The greatest Monarches are men for Death. This flash of life which so dazels the eyes of sub∣iects, fades away like the beauty of the rose at the setting of the Sunne. How many Kings haue there beene in the world since the birth thereof, and yet were it impossible to find out the least marke of their Tombes, whiles some are buryed in the Ocean, as Ler∣tius; others in the flames, as Hermasonus; some heere in gulfes, as Lentellinus; & others there

in the ample spaces of the aire, where their dust is scattered, as that of Pauzenas King of the Locrians. And of all together can there hardly be griped an handfull of dust: so true it is, they are turned to their nothing.

Ah! how now, my Soule, wilt thou see buried with a dry eye, whatsoeuer Nature hath more faire, the Earth more rich, & Art more precious? Wilt thou see dye euery mo∣ment the subiects of thy Loue, or rather a part of thy selfe, through the alliance thou hast made with the body, without abating thy vanity, and humbling thy arrogancy? What expects thou in the world, if all its goods be false, and euills true? There is no assurance to be found but in Death, nor con∣solation to be had, but constantly to suffer its Misery. Honours, they are all of smoke, Glory of wind, Greatnesses of Snow; and riches of Water, sliding from one to another without being possessed of any. Repose is not to be had but in imagination, & plea∣sure but in a dreame. The Thornes spring continually, and the Roses blow without cease. Sweetnes makes but its passage only heere, and bitternes his whole abode. If this soyle do bring forth flowers, they are but of Cares; if it beare fruit, they are but Peares of Anguish.

Teares are heere continuall, because the anoyes are alwayes present. Ioy is not seene but running, and sadnes makes heere a full stop. It is a place where Piety is ba∣nished as well as Iustice; and where Vices reigne, and Vertue is made a thrall. Where the fires of Concupiscence do burne, and where those of Luxury reduce the chastest harts into Ashes: whence it comes, that that great Saint demaunded wings to carry him into the desert. Hope is heere vncertayn, & despayre assured. Happines appeareth but as a lightning, and Misfortunes establish their dwelling, with Empire. They can de∣sire nothing heere, but in doubt of successe: they can expect nothing, but with feare to loose their tyme. Felicityes, euen while they are possessed, do free themselues by lit∣le and litle from this seruitude of being tyed to vs: So as if they destroy not themselues in their sublimity, time snatches them from vs at all houres, and leades vs away with them. What is the world but a denne of Theeues? but an Army of Mutiners? but a myre of Swyne; a Galley of Slaues? A lake of Basiliskes? and therfore the Prophet sayth; shall I neuer leaue a place so foule, so filthy, and so full of treasons and deceipts?

Needs then, my Soule, must thou lift vp

thine eyes to Heauen, since the Earth is meerly barren of thy contentments. Thou seekest the Soueraigne good, and it hath but springs of Euill. Thou seekest Eternity, and whatsoeuer is therein, is but vnconstancy. Change thy thoughtes; the treasures which thou seekest for, are not heere beneath, since this is the ordinary mansion of Pouerty and Misery. The obiects heere most frequent, are but Tombes; nor do we euer open our eyes but to see them layd open. Our eares are tou∣ched with no other sound then with that of Sights and Playnts. The sents of our putri∣faction occupy the smelling; and the gaule of a nourishment, dipt in our sweat, vnfor∣tunately feeds the tast of our tongue. So as turne we which way soeuer we will, the gulfes, the rockes, the fires, the punishmens, and mischiefes follow vs, as neere as the shaddow doth the body.

Consider attentiuely, my Soule, the im∣portance of these verities, and make thy pro∣fit of anothers harme. Represent to thee, the horrour and amazement whereto the world was reduced with all those meruailes, at such tyme as the Sunne withdrew from it his light. All those proud buildings so en∣riched with Brasse & Marble, those famous Temples, where Art is alwayes in dispute

with Nature striuing to set forth their works▪ appeare to be no more, but Collossus's of shaddowes, that strike thine eyes aswel with astonishment, as with terrour, during the reigne of darkenes; and imagine how the pourtraite of this horrour, drawes before hād its being from the Originall, since in the lat∣ter day the world shall take vpon it the vi∣sage of horrour, of terrour, and of ruine. Re∣present vnto thy self besids, in order of these verityes, how the shadowes which couer but halfe of the earth by respits, shall very shortly be filling vp the space of the whole Circle, according to the decree which hath beene made thereof before all ages. In so much, my Soule, as since the day must end at last, quenching its torch within the most ancient waters of the Ocean, seeke betymes another Sun aboue all the Heauens, that may not be subiect to Eclypses; and whose light being alwayes in the East, may make thy happines to shine within his splendour, not for a day, for a yeare, or for an age, but for an Eternity.

O sweet Eternity, with how many de∣lights enchauntest thou our spirits, while we addresse our thoughtes to thee. They may not tast thy baytes, and not be rauished from themselues with incomparable contentmēts.

We wander, I confesse, whiles we seeke thee, but thy Labyrinthes are so delicious, as we are alwayes in feare to get forth therof. The harts which are taken with thy loue, with∣out knowing thee, sigh after thy pleasurs; & howbeit they haue neuer tasted its sweetnes∣ses, but by way of Idaea, yet find they no re∣pose, but in hope to possesse them one day. O sweet Eternity! what feelings of ioy and happines dost thou breed in Soules created for thy glory! How tedious is the way of this mortall and transitory life, to them that liue in expectation of thy pleasures! They resemble the Marriner being tossed with stormes & tempests, who through teares, measures with his eyes a thousand tymes, in a moment, the humide spaces of the waues for to discouer the Port he aspires vnto: for they sayling in like māner in this Sea of the world, and continually dashed with tēpests of misfortunes, do coūt the houres, the dayes and the moneths of their annoyes, in the long pretension of landing at the port of the Tombe, to be reborne, from very Ashes, in the mansion of thy glory.

O sweet Eternity, what sensible repasts haue thy contentmentes with them! The more I thinke vpon thee, and the more I would be thinking of thee, my Spirit, rapt

in this diuine Eleuation, is so violently pul∣led from it selfe, as it liues of no other food, then that of thy diuine thoughtes! O how happy is he, who establisheth in thee, for an Essay, the foundation of his felicity! My Soule, if thou wilt be content in the midst of thy pleasures, thinke of Eternity. The onely imagination of its delights, shalbe stronger then thine annoyes. What griefe soeuer thou endurest, imagine with thy selfe, how it is but for a tyme, and that the ioy of Eternity can neuer end. The Fastings the Hayrecloth, and al the sufferances of an austere life can neuer shake thy constancy, if thy desires haue Eternity for obiect. What accident soeuer stayes thee, in the way of thy pilgrimage, lift vp thine eyes to Heauē for to contemplate the Beauty of the mansiō whither thou aspirest. Thou seest, how for the purchase of a little glory of the world men expose their liues to a thousand dāgers, and to possesse one day that same of Eternity wilt thou not hazard thy body, which is nought els, but corruption, to the mercy of torments and paynes?

Consider, my Soule, the instability of all created things, and put not thy trust in the earth, since the waters, snow, & sandes are the foundations therof. As often as the

meruailes of the world attract thee insensi∣bly to their admiration, breake but the crust of those goodly apparences, and thou shalt see within, how it is but a Schoole of Va∣nity, a Faire of Toyes, a Theater of Tra∣gedies, a labyrinth of Errours, a Prison of darknes, a Way beset with Thornes, and a sea full of stormes and tempests. That it is but a barren Land, a stony Feild, a greenish Meadow whose flowers do shroud Serpēts, a Riuer of teares, a mountaine of annoyan∣ces, a vale of Miseries, a sweet Poyson, a Fable, a dreame, an Hospitall of febricitāts where euery one suffers in his fashiō. Their repose is full of anguishes, and their vnrest is replenished with despaire. Their trauels are without fruit, and their Ioyes are but counterfet; where no content is found aboue a day, & all the rest of the life is nothing els but wretchednes. So as if the euils where∣with it is propled, could be counted, they would surpasse in number the atomes of Democritus, who could reckon the maladies of the body, the passions of the Soule, and al the dolours wherwith our life is touched. Now then, if it be true that we dye euery moment, is not euery moment, I pray, a Death to vs?

Let vs go then, my soule, to God, since

he cals vs; the Sunne lends vs not its light but to shew vs the way to him. The Star∣res shine not in heauen, but to let vs see the pathes, & trackes therof. So as if the Moone do hide her self frō our eyes by Interstitions it cannot be but of choler, as sensible of the contempt we shew of her light. Let vs go to this holy Land of Promise, and passe the Red Sea of sufferance and punishments, in exāple of our Sauiour, who with no other reason, then that of his Loue, would pur∣chase, through his bloud, the Glory he at∣teyned to. The world can afford vs but Death, Death but a Tombe, and the Tombe but an infinite number of wormes, which shalbe fed with our carcasse. They runne af∣ter the world, & the world is nought but misery; they do loue then to be miserable. What blindnes, my Soule, to sigh after our mishaps, & passionately to cherish the sub∣iect of our losse? Let vs go to this Eternity where the delights, euer present, raigne with in the Order of a continuall moment. Let vs get forth of this mouing circle, and breake the chaynes of this shameful seruitude, whe∣rein to Syn hath brought vs.

Away with the world, since whatsoeuer is in it, is but myre and dust; it is but smoke to the eyes, putrifaction to the nostrills, the

noyse of thunder and tempests to the eares, thornes to the hands, & smart to our fee∣ling. All those who put any trust there∣in are vtterly deceyued. All those who fol∣low it, are absolutely lost. All those that honour it, are wholy despised, and all those who sacrifice to its Idols, shalbe one day sa∣crificed themselues, in expiation of their cri∣mes. Besides, we see, how all that know it, do abandon it, for if it promise a Scepter, it reaches vs a Shephooke. Thrones are sea∣ted on the brimme of a precipice; nor doth it euer affoard vs any good turne, but as the vigill of some misfortune. Away then with the world, and all that is within it, since all its wōders now are but dust. What∣soeuer it hath more rare, is but Earth; what∣soeuer it hath more fayre, is but wind. Eue∣ry King is no more, but a heape of Worms, where Horrour, Terrour, and Infection astonish and offend the senses that approch vnto it. Corruption (sayth the Wiseman, speaking of man) vaunt thou as much as thou wilt, behould thy selfe brought vnto the first nothing of thy first Being.

Let vs not liue, my Soule, but for Eter∣nity, since it is the true spring of lyfe. Out of Eternity is there no repose; out of Eter∣nity, no pleasure; out of Eternity, all hope

is vayne. Who thinkes not of Eternity, thinkes of nothing, since out of Eternity all things are false. Let vs behould but Eter∣nity my Soule, as the onely obiect of glo∣ry. All flyes away except Eternity: it is it alone, which is able to satiate our de∣fires, and termine our hopes. I will no o∣ther comfort in all my annoyes, then that of Eternity. I will no other solace in all my miseryes, then that of Eternity. Af∣ter it, do I desire nothing, after it do I loo∣ke for nothing▪ I lyue not but for it, and my hart sighes not, but after it. All dis∣courses are displeasing to me except those of Eternity. It is the But, and end of all my actions; it is the obiect of my thoughtes. I labour, but to gather its fruits; al my vigils point at the pretensions of its Crownes. My eyes contemne all the obiects, except those that conuey my spirits to its sweet Idea's, as to the only Paradise I find in this world. Whatsoeuer I do, I iudge my selfe vnprofi∣table, if I refer not my actions to this diuine cause; whatsoeuer I thinke, whatsoeuer I say, and whatsoeuer I imagine, all is but va∣nity, if those thoughtes, if those words, & those imaginatiōs rely not, in some fashion, on Eternity. In fine, my Soule, if thou wilt tast on Earth, the delightes of Heauen,

thinke continually of Eternity, for in it only it is, where the accomplishment of all true contentments doth consist.

The Glory of Paradise.

AATER that rich Salo∣mon had a thousand ty∣mes contented his Eyes in admiration of the fai∣rest obiects, which are found in Nature; That his Eares euer charmed with a sweet Harmony, had deliciously ta∣sted in their fashion, the most sensible repasts they are affected to; That his Mouth had re∣lished the most delicate meates, where the Tongue finds the perfection of its delight: after, I say, he had quenched the thirst of his desires in the sea of all contentments of the world, and satisfied the appetite of his sen∣ses, in the accomplishment of the purest de∣licacies, he cries out aloud, That all was full of vanity. The Pompe of these magnificences may well represent themselues to his remē∣brance,

but he cryes out before it, That it is but vanity. His riches, his Greatnesses, his Tri∣umphes, & all his pleasures, serued him as a subiect within knowledge of their Nature, for to exclayme very confidently, that all was full of vanity. What pleasures now af∣ter these delights may mortalls tast? What Riches may they now possesse, after these Treasures? To what Greatnes may they aspire, which is not comprized within that of his Empire? To what sort of prospe∣rities may they pretend, which is not lesse then his happines? And yet neuertheles af∣ter a long possession of honours & delights, which were inseparable to his soueraigne & absolute power, he publisheth this truth, that all is full of smoke, and wind, and that nothing is sure heere beneath, but death, nor present, but miseries.

Soules of the world, what thinke you of, that you reason not somtimes in your selues to discouer the weaknes of the foundation, whereon your hopes are piched? You loue your pleasures; but if it be true, that know∣ledge should alwayes precede Loue, why know you not the nature of the Obiect, be∣fore it predominate the power of your affe∣ctions? Agayne, you loue not thinges at any tyme, but to possesse them. Ah what! &

know you not, the delights of the world do passe before our eyes, as a lightning, & that in their excesse, they incessantly find their ruyne? you thinke your selfe content to day because nothing afflicts you; do you cal that pleasure to runne after pleasure? for it is im∣possible for you to possesse that imaginary contentment, but in running after it, since it flyes so away without resting. Let them represent to themselues the greatest contēt∣ments that may be receyued in the world, & at the same tyme, let all the diuers Spirits, who haue tasted the vayne Sweetnesses ap∣peare, to tell vs in secret, what remaines to them thereof.

Thou Miser, tell vs I pray thee, what pleasure hast thou to shut vp thy goulden Earth, within thy coffers, to lend it to the interest of thy conscience, and to make it dayly to increase through thy guilty cares, and thy fruitles watches? If the vaine Glory to be accōpted rich, possessed thee, thou hast beene neuer so, but in opinion, and appa∣rence only, since in the state whereunto age now bringes thee, all the Riches thou hast heaped togeather, and which yet thou art gathering, are fruits whereof thou hast but the flowers, by reason of their frailty. Thou mayest carry the key of thy Coffers long

inough; thou art but the keeper of thy trea∣sures, and as a meere Depositarian thereof; for thy auarice lets thee frō disposing them, and consequently to gyue forth thy selfe to be the true owner of them. If thou couldst haue any moment of cessation in thy folly, I would demaund the reason of thy actions, to know where thy hopes do bound, and what glory is the But therof? It may be thou wouldst dye rich: what feeblenes? knowest thou not, thou hast need but of a sheet on∣ly for to couer thy Miseryes withall. Hast thou heaped vp money in thy Cabinets, with purpose to erect thee some stately Mo∣nument after thy death? Foole as thou art, thou hast past all thy lyfe without conside∣ring where thy Soule shall lodge after thy death; and thou studiest now to prepare a house for thy body, or rather for the worms, which shall gnaw the same, as if putrifactiō were some rare and precious thing.

If thou hast a desire to leaue thy chil∣dren rich, true Riches consist not but in Ver∣tue onely, & with its sweet liquour, ough∣test thou to milch their infancy, & to murse them continually with its diuine nourish∣ment. Suppose through excesse of happi∣nes thou gainst the whole world (a sport of Fortune) and by a blow of a sad mischance,

whereto thy vices shall haue smoothed the way, thou loose thy Soule in the last mo∣ment of thy lyfe, what glory past, what-domage present? The Reigne of thy Great∣nesses shall finish so; and that of thy paynes shall then begin. Verily thou shalt haue pos∣sest all the goodes of the earth, but in truth likwise shalt thou feele therfore all the euills within the order of a diuine Iustice, which shall make thy dolours eternal. Be thou cō∣uinced thē by reason not to follow the way of a lyfe, the most vnhappy that euer yet quickned the body, and confesse with me how there hath beene but one Matthew A∣postle, whom this vast sea of the world hath saued from the shipwracke, whereinto the weight of gold & siluer went about to en∣gage him. Bias despoyled himselfe indeed of all his Riches, but not of all his errours. Laertius Neuola puts ouer the right of Maio∣rity to his brother, and consequently his ri∣chest pretensiōs; but in despising one good he imbraced not the other. Consider I pray to what point of pouerty was the Richman brought vnto in an instant, since of all his Riches, there was not left him meanes to buy a drop of could water, to quench his thirst.

Confesse then, Miser, thy pleasures to be

false, and how they subsist not in thy spirit, but through a deceiptful opiniō that blindes thee, to cast thee into a pricipice. The keeper of a Vineyard that resembles thee, without imitatiō of thee, is a great deale more happy then thou art, for after he hath stirred the earth, he gathers at the end of his daies-worke, in the repose a sweet sleepe, the fruit of his paines; and thou on the contrary, the thornes of thy thornes, since an eternal tor∣ment succeds the dolours of thy dying life. So as Couetous men in seeking of gould & siluer, in the bowells of the earth, find hell without piercing into it, which is the Cēter therof. Thou proud and ambitious Man, tell vs, I pray thee, what are thy pleasures? I know well how thy Spirit full of vanity pitches thy hopes vpon the highest Throne of Fortune, & that blind in the knowledge of thy faults, thou findst no glory, which is not far beneath thy merit. But wherin con∣sists thy Contentment, if it be to expect Thrones, and attend to Crownes? Did one euer see a feebler pleasure, since the nature of it is nothing els but wind and smoke? Thou tramplest the Earth with a disdainfull foot, as if thou hadst reasons inough to persuade vs, that it were not thy Mother. Thou out-facest the heauens with an arrogant looke,

and the force of thy ashes is dispersed in the aire, not being able to fly any higher, A∣gaine, thou makest no doubt, that if the Hea∣uens haue found thunder to punish the in∣solency of the Angels, it were like to want new punishments to chastize the vanity of men? It may be thou flatterest thy selfe with this vaine beliefe, that being raysed aboue the common sort, thou hast beene formed in some new kind of mould, and that thou art so dispensed with, in this law, condemning vs to the sufferance of all manner of paines.

Returne I pray thee, from this wande∣ring, and open thine eyes to consider thy ruine. Thy Pride, and thy Arrogancy are the plumes of the Peacocke, sustayned by two foundations of Misery, figured by the feet of this Foule. Carry thy head as high as thou wilt, it must necessarily fall of its pride in declining to the Earth. And if thou letst thy selfe be dazeled with the glittering of thy sumptuous Apparell, this verity con∣uinceth thee of folly, since all thou wearest, is but the worke of wormes: nor do I won∣der now, that they deuoure vs so, after de∣ath, for it is but to pay themselues for the paynes they haue taken, in laying the web, wherewith we couer our nakednes. So as, if thou regardest thy selfe neere, thou shalt

see how the wormes of thy apparell, couer those of thy body; & that therefore thy Ar∣rogancy hath no other foundation, then that of thy corruption. And vpon this assurance tell me now, what are the delights of thy vanity?

And you great Monarkes, who find the Earth too little to bound, within its spaces, the extent of your Empire, do you, I pray, make vs participant of your Contentments, and tell vs something of the Sweetnesses which you tast, during the raigne of your absolute powers. It is a pleasure, you will say, to commaund a world of people, & to impose thē lawes after your owne humour. A feeble Pleasure! Whiles it proceeds, but from a Soueraignty which subiects the spirit of him that commaunds; because indeed he ought to correspond with the actions of his Subiects. You do what you will your selfe. It is true; but that is not the way to content your selfe, if your deeds be not exempt frō reproch. If they feare you, it is but for the knowledge they haue of your Tyranny. If they loue you, to what end serues the affec∣tiō of your subiects, while you seeme not to merit the same? You go into al places wher∣soeuer your desires call you, without euer meeting with resistance in your designes:

but why follow you not the path of vertue? Displeasures rather then delights attend you at the end of the Carriere. I know well how Greatnesses, Riches, and all Magni∣ficences are alwayes in pledge with you; but therein ought you to consider the while how the glory which enuirons you, seemes to fetch the same course which the Sunne doth, and how it flyes away without cease towards its West, whence it shall neuer rise agayne. Be it so, that your lookes seeme to astonish the stoutest, and that they fauour the more happy. Those lookes in their ster∣nesse, cannot wound but the culpable, no-engage in their sweetnes, but spirits which feed of smoke.

There is no doubt but your power is ad∣mired, but not enuyed of the wiser, because the greatnes of your might, concludes very ordinarily in vanity. We must confesse that the honour, & life of men are in your hāds. But you must needs confesse withall, that your heades also, are beneath the Sword, which is fastened to the feeling of Heauen, or rather suspended in the ayre by a little threed, and how the least of your crymes may pul vpon you the chastisement therof. So as, if you take pleasure to bath you in the bloud of Innoēccy, as an Otho, or a Caligula,

the diuine Iustice prepares your last bath in your proper bloud, where your Soule suffers Shipwracke with your body. What then are your delights? In what garden do you gather their flowers? Verily you haue all things at your wish, but what pleasure is it to wish for transitory goods, whose priuatiō causeth a great deale more sorrow, then the fruition afforded contentment? If your Crownes, and Scepters are agreable to you during life, they will cause a horrour at your Death; for that you ought to giue accompt of your swaying them. You are but Lieu∣tenants onely in the Land of God, during the tyme of your Reigne. The hower ap∣proaches wherein you are to iustify the So∣ueraigne actions of all the moments of your life, to know (in truth) in what fashion you haue disposed of the Greatnesses, and of the Treasures, whereof you were no more then meere Depositarians. Do you now then referre all your pleasures to this last in∣stant, and you shall know how the way is a great deale more thorny, then that of a low condition, and voyd of Enuy.

Tell vs I pray thee, Lucullus, what are be∣come of the delights of thy proud Feasts? I admit, that the prodigality of thy Magnifi∣cences, hath vnpeopled the ayre of Birds,

and the sea of fishes, and that Art hath expo∣sed to view, as in a stall, her last inuentions, to glut the appetite of thy foolishnes. Where are now those contentments? Where is this Pompe, where is this lustre, where are the Pallaces of these banquets, where are the Cupps of Gould, where the Meate, where the Cookes, where are the Stewards, where the Guesse, and the wayters of thy Feasts? All is slid away without their memory. And if the Historyes (Lucullus) do yet remember thee, it is but onely to represent thy folly to Posterity. What contentment may they take in feasts, if the sweet wines wherwith they satiate their hunger, be chaunged to corruption? They take pleasure to deuour their pleasure, like as in the Chase they find contentment in running after their sports. The hony which they put into the mouth, becomes bitter in the stomacke: for what incōmodities seeme they not to suffer who haue filled their belly withall the sortes of Meats? And to what shame and infamy sub∣mit they not themselues, while they drown their reason in wine, their honour, and their conscience all at once? is it not to be cruell to ones selfe to precipitate his paces to the Tomb-wards, as if we dyed not soone in∣ough?

Againe, for whome take we the paines to treat our bodyes so, if not for the wormes, since the flesh is destined to them? All the fat which we gather, is but for them, for the small tyme we lyue is not to be put into ac∣compt. Why, consider they not how euery Banquet, hath its last course, & euery wed∣ding-day its morrow; and that the ioy of these feasts seemes to passe away, as swift as the day, which lends them light? What a goodly custome was it among the Pagans to serue in at the last course of their Bāquets, an Anatomy vpon the table, in signe how the wormes were shortly to reduce the bo∣dies of the inuited to that estate? How many are there now adayes, who in the blindnes of Epicurisme put all their Gallantry in ma∣king of good Cheere? But what excesse of Bestiality the while to take such pleasure to pamper the body on the way of death, whi∣ther it runs posting without cease? I graunt thou hast drowned to day thy Troubles in thy Glasses, and hast glutted thine appetite with meats the most delicious of the world: what shalbe left thee therof to morrow, but gaule in the mouth frō the surfet of thy riot? I say, but bitternes in thy hart, & repentance in thy soule? Thy Crosses renew againe more strong then euer, by reason of the pri∣uation

of thy delighs. Thou must begin a∣gaine to morrow to sooth thy sensuality, and the day following the same tormēts which thou hast suffered now already, shall succeed thy ioy. So as when all the lyfe should be a feast, the last seruice thereof were alwaies to be feared, since a life of Roses brings forth a death of Thornes. Cramme then thy body withall sorts of meats, as long as thou wilt, he that shall haue fasted the while, shalbe a great deale more content then thou, vpon the last day of thy Banquets. So as, if thou hast the aduantage to be fatter then he, the wormes shall fare the better for it, in thy graue.

You sensles Soules that loue but the plea∣sures of the Table, I aduertise you betimes that the Feast is ended, and the Company brooke vp: ech one is retired with himselfe. But there is now another manner of news, which is, that many of your Cōpanions are dead; one, as Ninus, with too much drinke; another with feeding ouer much, as Messina. He there hath fetched an eternall sleepe, as Bogrias; & he heere hath cut his wiues throat in his wine, as Thessalius. To what end thinke you? They are the last seruices which mis∣fortune presents at the last Course of your feasts, the poyson whereof is couered with

sugar; take you heed then, & play not with such formidable Enemies. It is all that you can do to eschew the dangers in the world, with the light you haue of Reason; and you are drowning the same in your Banquets, without feare of suffering Shipwracke with it.

Away with these Pleasures of smoke, which fill not the body, but with new matter of putrifaction, I abhor you, & de∣test you with a hatred which shall neuer dy. Since my God hath put Thornes on his head, why should not I be putting them in my hart? I will from henceforth quench my Thirst within his Chalice, and gather the fruits of my nourishment in his desarts. My Sauiour hath fasted all his life, and shall I pamper my selfe euery moment? Let death come vpon me, rather then such a wish. I loue thee, my Soule too well, to preferre the pleasures of my Body before thy cōtentmēt. Take then thy pleasure in the Thoughtes of Eternity, since for thy entertaynement they are able to produce the true Nectar of Hea∣uen, and the purest wine of the Earth.

And you, profane Spirits, who sacrifice not but to Voluptuousnesse, confesse you now, that Lazarus was a great deale more happy in his Misery, then was the impious

Richman in his Treasure. The one dyed of Famine in the world, and the other dyes of Thirst in Hell. Agayne, what a thing were it that all wedding-feasts should be held on the Sea, where the least tempest might tro∣ble the solemnityes, & metamorphize them into a funerall pompe? And yet neuerthe∣les is it true, that the soules of the world giue themselues to banquet vpon the current of the water of this life, where rockes are so frequent, and shipwracks so ordinary. One drinkes a dying, to the health of another who drownes in his glasse some moments of his life; and so all, Companions of the same lot approch without cease to the Tōbe which Tyme prepares them. O how sweet it is (said that Poet) to banquet at the Ta∣ble of the Goddes, because in that of men, the last seruice is alwayes full of Alöes. But I shall say after him, what contentments without comparison, receyue they at the Angels Table? It is not there where the soule is replenished with this imaginary sweet wyne, nor with these bitter sweet∣nesses of the world. The food of its nourish∣ment is so diuine, as through a secret vertue it contents the appetite without cloying it euer.

Sigh then, my Soule, after this Celestiall

Manna, alwaies fruitful in pleasures, so sweet as desire and hope are alike vnprofitable in their possession, if what they possesse in thē may be imagined to be agreable to them: nor suffer any more thy body (since thy rea∣son may mayster its senses) to heap on its dunghill, corruption vpon corruption, in the midst of its banquets and Feasts, where they prepare but a rich haruest for the wor∣mes. If thy body be a hungry, let it feed as that of Iob, with the sighes of its Misery. If it be a thirst, let it be quenching its thirst with the humide vapour of its teares, as that of Heraclitus. And if it reuolt, let them put it in chaynes and fetters, for so if it dy in tor∣ments it shall be resuscited anew in Glory.

Sardanapalus, appeare thou with thy Ghost heere, to represent in Idaa, those imaginary pleasures which thou hast taken in thy lu∣xuries. O it would be a trimme sight to see thee by thy lasciuious Elincea, disguised in a womans habit, hauing a distaffe by thy side and a spindle in thy hand; what are become of those allurements which so charmed thy Spirit? What are become of those charmes that so rauished thy soule? What are become of those extasies, which so made thee to liue besides thy self? those imaginary Sweet∣nesses, those delicious imaginations, those

agreable deceipts, and those agreements of obiects where thy senses found the accom∣plishment of their repose? Blind as thou art, thou cōsiderest not awhit, that Time seemes to bury thy pleasures in their Cradle, and euen in their birth; how they runne Post to their end through a Law of necessity, fetched from their violence. The profane fire wher∣with thou wast burned, hath reduced thy hart into Ashes, with thy body; and the di∣uine Iustice hath metamorphized the ima∣ginary paradise of thy life into a true Hell, where Cruelty shall punish thee without cease for the cryme of thy lust. I confesse that the Sunne hath lent thee its light during an Age, for thee to tast very greedily the plea∣sures & sweetnesses of transitory goods. But that age is past, the sweetnesses vanished, thy pleasures at an end, and all thy goods, as false, haue left thee dying but only this griefe, to haue belieued them to be true.

Brutish Soules, who sigh without cease after the like passions, breake but the crust of your pleasures, and cry you out with Sa∣lomon, how the delights of the world are full of smoke, and that all is vanity. He lodged within his Pallace 360. Concubines, or ra∣ther so many Mischiefes, which haue put the saluation of his soule in doubt. I wonder not

awhit that they hoodwincke Loue, so to blind our reason, for it were impossible our harts should so sigh at all houres after those images of dust, but in the blindnes where∣to the powers of our soule are reduced. O how a Louer esteemes himself happy to pos∣sesse the fauours of his mistresse! He pre∣ferres this good before all those of the earth besides. And in the Violence of his passion, would he giue▪ as Adam, the whole Para∣dise for an Apple, his Crowne for a glasse of water, I would say, that which he pre∣tends, for a litle smoke. He giues the name of Goddesse to his Dame, as if this title of Ho∣nour could be compatible with the Surna∣me she beares of Miserable. He adores not∣withstanding this Victime, and offers In∣cense to it vpon the same Aultar, where it is to be sacrificed. His senses in their bru∣tishnes make their God of it; and his spirits touched with the same error authorize their Idolatry, without considering this Idoll to be a worke of Art, couered with a crust of Playster, full of putrifaction, and which without intermissiō resums the first forme of Earth, in running to its end. Would they not say now, this louer were a true Ixion who imbraceth but the Clouds? for in the midst of his pleasures, death changes his Body into a

shadow full of dread and horrour. He be∣lieues he houlds in his Armes this same I∣doll, dressed vp with those goodly colours, which drew his eyes so in admiratiō of her, & he sees no more of her then the ruines of the pourtraite, where the wormes begin al∣ready to take their fees. Away with these pleasurs of the flesh, since all flesh is but hay, & that death serues not himselfe of his Sith, but to make a haruest of it, which he carryes to the Sepulcher. What Glory is there in the possession of all the women in the world, if the fayrest that euer yet haue beene, are now but ashes in the Tombe? All the flow∣ers in their features are faded as those of the Meadowes, and the one and other haue la∣sted but a Spring. Soules of the world, de∣maund of your Eyes, what are become of those obiects, which so often they haue ad∣mired? Aske your Eares to know, where are those sweet Harmonies, which haue charmed them so deliciously? make you the same demaund of all your other Senses, and they shall altogeather answere you in their manner, how their pleasures are vanished in an instant, as the flash of a lightening; and that they find nothing durable in the world, but griefe for the priuation of the things which they loued. Admit you haue

all sorts of pleasures at a wish; for how long tyme are they like to last? It may be a mo∣ment, it may be an houre; and would you for a little number of instants, be reigning so long in your vices?

Thou seest then, my Soule, how false is the Good of Greatnesse; and that of Riches how imaginary it is. How the pleasures of Banquets, full of Alôes, dye in their spring, and the delights of the flesh haue no other foundation then that of corruptiō. It is now tyme, my Soule, that I let thee see sensibly this difference that is betweene the con∣tentments of the Earth, and those of Hea∣uen, to the end, that in the knowledge of their nature, the one so contrary to the o∣ther, thou maist shunne those pleasures that fly away, & sigh for loue after the delights of Eternity. There is this difference (S. Au∣gustine notes) betweene eternall & transito∣ry things, that before we possesse the tran∣sitory goods, we passionately desire them; and from the tyme we enioy them, we fall sensibly to mislike them. On the contrry, the desire of eternall things we neuer thinke of; yet from the tyme we possesse them, we are not capable of loue, but for them. Con∣sider a little, you Mortals, what this is but an age of pleasures, whose last moment seemes

to make vs forget all the others that went before; in such wise, as there rests but a vayne Idaea of the Tyme past. Search you somwhat curiously withîn the memory of ages, into that of daies, which haue runne away, coūt their houres if you will, and you shall con∣fesse, that it seemes to you to be but yester∣day, since our first Father was chased out of the terrestriall Paradise; so true it is, that Tyme passeth, and swiftly glideth away.

The Sage Roman sayd; That if to these long yeares we adde a great number of o∣thers, and of all together make vp a Raigne of a life, the most happy that euer yet hath beene seene, if we needs most destine a last day, to performe the funerals of all the o∣thers, and vpon that day a certaine houre, and in this houre the last moment; a great part of our life will go way in doing ill, the greater in doing nothing, and the whole in doing otherwise then our duty required. There is alwaies a thirst of the delights of the world, and though we seeme to quench the same in its puddle springs, yet is it but for a moment; for the heat wilbe renewing againe, and the desire of drinking will presse vs then more then euer. Vntye thy self thē, my Soule, from all the feelings of the Earth, and with a pitch, full of loue, eleuate thy

Thoughtes to this sweet obiect of Eternity. If thou aspirest to Greatnesses, represent to thy selfe how the happy spirits trample vn∣derfoot both the Sun and Moone, and all those Starres of the Night, whose infinite number astonish our senses. S. Paul was but lifted to the third Heauen, and yet neuer∣theles could he not expresse, in his language, the Meruayles which he admired. And S. Peter on the Mount Thabor, being dazeled through the glittering of one sole Ray, most confidently demaunds permission of his Mayster, to build in the same place three Tabernacles, hauing now quite forgot the Earth, as if it had neuer beene.

Alas, O great Saint, with what exta∣sies of ioy shouldest thou be accomplished in this diuine Bower of Eternall felicityes, if one feeble reflection of light, so rauished thee from thy self, as made thee breath so de∣liciously, in a lyfe replenished with clarity, as thou didst put in obliuion the darknes of the world where thou madest thy abode? What might thy Glory by now? To what point of happines might we seeme to ter∣mine it? Thou possessest the body, whose Shadow thou hast adored; thou behouldst vncouered that diuine Essence, whose Splē∣dor makes the Cherubims to bow the head,

for not being able to endure the sweet vio∣lences of its clarity. Iudge with what fee∣ling I reuerence thy felicity, if the onely throughts I haue of them do make me happy only before hand. The Kings of the world, my Soule, establish the foundation of their Greatnesses vpō the large spaces of the earth, and all the earth togeather is but a poynt in comparison of Heauen. And therefore the onely obiect they haue in their combats & triumphes, is no other then that of the Cō∣quest of this little point.

Get forth then, my Soule, of its Circum∣ference, since thou art able to aspire to the possession, not of the world (for it is but misery) but of a mansion whose extent may not be measured, and whose delights are e∣ternall. Wouldst thou haue Thrones? The Emperiall Heauen shall be thy foot-stoole. Wouldst thou haue Crownes? The same of immortall Glory shall enuiron thy head. Wouldst thou Scepters? Thou shalt haue alwayes in thy hand a soueraigne power, which shall make thy desires vnprofitable, not knowing what to desire out of thy po∣wer. Hast thou a desire to haue treasures? Glory and Riches are in the howse of our Lord: And not this trāsitory glory of the world which chaunges into smoke, but another wholy

diuine, that depends not a whit vpon Tyme, and which reaches beyond all ages. Not those riches of the Ocean, nor those of the Land, which are vnprofitable in their ver∣tue, & full of weaknes in their power; but of Riches that haue no price, and which make thee owner of the Soueraigne Good, wher all sorts of felicityes are comprehended. If thou be delighted with Banquets, heare the Prophet what he sayes; Lord, one day a∣lone affoards more contentment in thy house, then a whole age in the feasts of the world. The diuine food wherewith the happy Spirits are fed hath not in it selfe only these sweetnesses in quality, but it nature. So as, this is a vertue essentiall to it, continually to produce what soeuer they way imagine in its chiefe perfe∣ction. We reioyce in thee, O Lord, in remem∣bring thy breasts, a great deale more sweet then wine.

They write of Assuerus, that he raigned in in Asia, ouer one hundred & twenty seauen Prouinces, and that he made a Banquet in his Citty of Susa, which lasted an hundred and fourescore dayes, where he set forth with Prodigality, all the Magnificences which Art and Nature, with common ac∣cord could furnish him, at the price of infinit riches. But the end of this Feast did blemish

the Glory of its beginning and continuance, for that all the pleasures which dye, are not considerable in their Birth, nor in the course of their Reigne. Hence it is, my Soule, that the only delights of these Banquets, which the King of Kings prepares for thee, are worthy of thy desires, since they shall last for an Eternity. Those there haue begunne vpon Earth, for to finish one day; and these heere shall beginne in Heauen for neuer to haue end. Some are borne, and dye in Tym••; and others are borne in Eternity to endure therein as long as it. Wouldst thou lodge in Pallaces? The Rich house of our Lord shalbe the habitation of the iust. But what house do you belieue it is? Represent vnto thy self, that when they enter into the Pallace of some Great Prince, they find the particular seates of all his Subiects, before that of his dwelling. The like is it in this stately Pal∣lace of the Vniuerse, which this Almighty King hath built with a word only, where al his Creatures make their aboad, as in certaine Tenemēts which he hath destined to them. The Ayre serues them for a Cage, the Sea for a Fishpoole, the Forrests for a parke, the Champaignes for orchards, the Mountayns for their Towers, and the diuers Villages are as sundry places of pleasure, which

Kings & Princes hold as tenants of Time.

Walke then boldly, my Soule, within this vast Pallace of the world, since it is the place of thy dwelling. The starry Heauen is the feeling thereof; the Moone the torch of the night, and the Sunne that of the day: the birds learne not to sing of nature, but to charme thine eares, through the sweet har∣mony of their warbling. The Sunne, the Au∣rora, and the Zephyrus take paines ech one in its turne to cultiuate the Earth, for to helpe it, in the shouting forth of its delicate Flo∣wers, from whome beautifull Iris hath robd the pourtaite of their colours for to dresse vp her Arke, whence it is that thine eyes con∣tinually admire it. The trees euer stooping vnder the burden of their fruits, grow not but for thy delight. The woods, they peo∣ple their trunkes with leaues, of purpose to make thee tast the pleasures of their shades, in the chiefest of the heats. And the Rockes though vnsensible, contribute to the per∣fection of thy contentmēt a thousand good∣ly fountaynes, which with the murmur of their purling, fetch sleepe into thy eyes, for to charme sometymes the annoyes of thy life. The Meadowes do neuer seeme to pre∣sent themselues to thee, but with the coun∣tenance of Hope, knowing well how it

comforts the whole world; & its Champai∣gnes, as witty to deceiue thee, do hide their treasures vnder goulden Cases, to the end to dazle thine eyes through the glittering of so goodly a shew.

And now, my Soule, if in this Pallace where the Subiects of him who hath built the same, do soiourne, thou seest but won∣ders euery where; to what degree of admi∣ration shalt thou be raysed, when passing further, thou discouerest the dwelling of the soueraigne Maister? Thou needst but mount vp an eleauen steps onely to behold the spa∣ciousnes of the place where is assembled all his Court. Go then faire and softly, because vpon euery step thou shalt be discouering of new subiects of wonder, and astonishment at once. The first step is the Heauen of the Moone, whereby passing only, thou shalt admire the clarity wherewith it is adorned, to giue light to all those that mount, which is noted in the Pallaces of great men, where the Stayer-cases are made very light-some. The Moone presids in the midst of its Hea∣uen, and within its Circle is it alwayes waxing and wayning, where the diuine Philosopher Plato hath established the spring of the Idaea's of all the things heere beneath; and then consider how in the space of this,

degree might a thousand worlds be built.

The second Stayre is the Heauen of Mer∣cury. The third, the Heauen of Venus. The fourth that of the Sunne (names which the Astrologers assigne vnto the Heauens.) Cō∣template heere at leasure, this Stare of the day, whose benigne influences do make the earth so fruitfull, & whose light giues pride to colours, and consequently the vertue to all beautifull things to become admirable. It was this very Sunne which Iosue arrested in the midst of its Course, and which the Persi∣ans heeretofore haue adored, not conside∣ring the while it was subiect to Eclypses, & how it borrowed its light, and all its other essentiall qualities from a soueraigne & ab∣solute Cause, which had giuen it the Be∣ing.

The fifth Stayre is the Heauen of Mars. The sixth of Iupiter, and the seauenth of Sa∣turne. They eight Stayre is the Firmament, The ninth the Primum mobile. Stay heere a little, my Soule, vpon this Step, for to lis∣ten as you passe along to the sweet Harmo∣ny of the mouing of the Heauens, and of al that is in nature; for by the swindge of this Heauen, as with a Mayster-wheele, are all the springs of the world moued, and are no otherwise capable of action then through

its mouing. But the motion is so melodious through continuance, & through the iustnes of the correspondency of all the parts with their ground, as Plato that great Philopher was not touched with any other desire, thē that of hearing this Harmony.

The tenth Staire is the Cristalline Hea∣uen. Heere it is, my Soule, where thy fee∣ling, and thy thoughts are to be attentiue. This tenth Step is beyond the limits of the world. Thou beginst but now, to enter in∣to the Mansion of the Glory of thy Lord, mingle respect heere amidst thy ioy, & ioine humility with thy contentments. Thou beholdst thy self now illumined with ano∣ther light, then that of the Sunne & Moone not suffering intermission in its durance. It shines alwayes, and thou maiest know in the neere admiration of its diuine Clarity, the price of the delights it communicats to thee. Let vs finish our voyage, and mount we now to the Emperiall Heauen, whi∣ther S. Paul was rapt, & where he saw won∣ders, which had no name; where he tasted Sweetnesses, whose Idaea's are incomprehē∣sible; and where he felt pleasures, whereof his very Senses could not talke, euen when they had the vse of speach. But thou mayest yet cry with S. Stephen, how thou seest the Hea∣uens

open: for now behold thee vpon the last step, and at the gate of that great Emperiall Heauen.

It is not permitted thee, my Soule, to enter into a place so holy and sacred; do thou only admire by order, the Porch with∣out, and the infinite greatnes of the miracu∣lous wonders there, whence all the Saints, incessantly publish the Glory of the Omni∣potent who hath wrought them. Contem∣plate the perfect Beauty of the Angels, ech one in his Hierarchy, that of the Archan∣gels, that of Powers, that of the Vertues, that of the Principalities, that of the Dominati∣ons, and that of the Seraphims, with this Astonishment to behold how in clarity they surpasse the Sunne. Admire all the happy Spirits, ech one seated in the Throne of Glory which he hath merited, the Virgins, the Confessours, the Martyrs, the Apostles, the Prophets, and the Patriarches, being ray∣sed all to the degrees of Felicity, which they haue purchased.

Represent vnto thy selfe besides, the in∣comparable happines, wherewith the Im∣maculate Virgin Mother of our Sauiour, is accomplished. Cast thine eyes vpon her Throne, and euen rauished in astonishment of her Greatnesses, publish with confidence

how they are without comparison, and that the Sun, the Moone, and all the Starres are of a matter to vile, and profane for her to tread vpon. And if thou wilt be casting thy view vpon the Tabernacle of thy God, do thou shroud it from the flash of his rayes, vnder the Robe of the Cherubims; and be∣ing rauished as they, in the dazeling where they breath accomplished withal sorts of fe∣licityes, adore the diuine Obiect of their Glory. And while thine eyes, shalbe tasting, in their fashion, the delights which are foūd in the admiration of things perfectly fayre, lend thine eares to that sweet harmony, wherwith al those happy Spirits make vp a Consort in singing without cease, Holy, Ho∣ly, Holy is our Lord; the Heauens, and Earth are filled with the maiesty of his Glory.

O diuine melody! How powerfull are thy streynes, since through our thoughtes they make thēselues so sensible to our harts! With how many different pleasures, and all perfectly extreme, art thou rauished now, my Soule! With what rauishments of Ioy art thou transported besides thy selfe? In what sweet extasies art thou not wādering? After what sort of goods, canst thou seeme to aspire vnto? Thou beholdest all Great∣nesses in their Thrones, Riches in their my∣nes,

Glory in its Element, and the Vertues in their Empire. Thou tastest the true Con∣tentments, in their purity, after a manner so diuine, as thou possessest all without de∣siring any thing; & yet neuertheles not all, since the obiect of thy delights is infinite; which makes thee tast new Sweetnesses, not in the order of increase of pleasure, but in that of the accomplishment of the rest, as being alwayes perfectly content.

Nor yet is this all, my Soule, to make thee admire, in Idaea, the Meruailles of all these diuine obiects of glory, and of felicity. It behoues me now to represent vnto thee besides, the strayte vnion that ioynes the happy Spirit with his soueraigne Good, I would say, the Soule with God. But how may it be done? God cannot produce a Spe∣cies, or an Image of himselfe, which is able to represent him, in regard the Species and the Image are alwayes more pure, & more simple then is the Obiect whence they pro∣ceed. Now, what Species, or Image may be purer, and more spirituall then God? Besi∣des that, all the Species, and all the Images are so determined in the forme of the thing they represent, as they cannot seeme to re∣present another. And it is true, that God is not a thing determinate, because it hath not

a particular Being, separated from others; in such sort, as he eminently conteynes ech thing, as the Apostle saith, Portans omnia verbo virtutis sue. There is no Species, which is able to determine this God indeterminate; there is no Image created, or produced that can represent this God increated. Hence it is that God cānot vnite himself to the Soule through a Species or Image, as we do other things. The Deuines say, that God vnites himselfe to the Soule, per se, really; & they call this vnion, per modum species. But for to cleere the obscurity, which is in all this my∣stery, you must note, that when as God vni∣tes himselfe to the Soule, he eleuates the same to a being which is supernaturall and diuine. In so much, as it resēbles God him∣selfe; not so, as it looseth its proper Essence, but within the perfectiō wherto it is eleua∣ted, it deriues from the Obiect which cōmu∣nicates to it, al the glory that it possesseth, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 relatiōs to his similitude; in such sort as in re∣garding this happy Soule, they behold God.

Moreouer, it may be said more cleerely. that God vnites himself to the Soule in such manner, as the Fire, is vnited to the Iron: & forasmuch as the Fire; as agent, is more no∣ble then the Iron, it conuertes the Iron into its semblance, with so much perfection, as

one would say, the Iron had chaunged its proper forme into that of the Fire; yet not∣withstanding the Iron looseth not awhit of its essence. Now this vnion of Fire with Iron is a reall vnion, per se, and not through Species, nor through Image. So God who is called the (Deus noster ignis consumens est) is vnited to our Soule, per se, really, and receyuing the same into himselfe, reduceth it to a being supernaturall, and deified; in so much as it seemes to be no more a Soule but God himselfe. A verity, which S. Iohn publisheth when he saith, we shalbe like vnto him. From the Tyme, that a Soule is vnited with God, he illumines it with a light of glory, to the end it may see him, and contē∣plate him at its pleasure, and with him all things which are in him, formally and eminen∣tly (to vse the termes of the Schoole-men,) in so much, as it is ignorāt of nothing with∣in the perfection of its wisedome.

O admirable Science! Then shall it be, when it shall cleerely see within the Abysses of diuine secrets, that which God did before he created the world. How he produced e∣ternally another himselfe, without multi∣plication of Deities, and how betweene the producent, and the person produced, pro∣ceeds an eternall loue of him who engenders

and of him who is engendred, which is this adorable Trine-vnity. It shal see besides how this God, being engēdred Eternally in him∣selfe without mother, might be borne once on earth of the most glorious Virgin with∣out Father. With what Prouidence he go∣uernes all things; with what Goodnes he created Man; & with what Loue he redee∣med him. How he iustifies inuisibly with∣out forcing the liberty; How the works of his Iustice accord with those of his mercy; How he saues through his grace; How he leaues them reprobate without fault; How his infallible Science agrees without the Contingency of things; How the Predesti∣nate may damne himselfe, and the Repro∣bate be saued, though the Science of God remayne alwaies infallible, and immutable as it is. The verity of all these secrets shalbe represented to its eyes, more cleere then the Sunne.

O what Science, my Soule, or rather what incomparable felicity proceeds from all these sundry pleasures? When shall this be, that thou cryest out with the Queene of Saba, speaking to thy Lord, in lyke manner as she spake vnto Salomon: What wisedome is thine, O great King, what glory, and what magnificence admire they in thy

Kingdome? What Citty is this same, reple∣nished with so many goods; what delicious meates and what precious wines, do they tast at the table of thy banquets? What lustre of greatnes appeares, in all those, that at∣tend vpon thee? Renowne may well pu∣blish thy prayses in all places of the Earth, if al the Heauēs together are not large inough to conteyne the rumour of them. O happy Spirits, who reigne in the mansion of this immortall glory! I wonder not awhit, at your so trampling vnder foot the Crownes and Scepters of the world, in iust pretension to the felicity you possesse. What fires, what torments, and what new punishments, would not one suffer for to purchase this so∣ueraygne good, where repose is so durable? Gibbets, Hangmen, & all the instruments of Death, are as so many Trophies of the glory, which succeeds shame and payne. O how these diuine words of S. Augustin, do cause a sweet melody to resound, while he sayes; Let the deuills prepare me from henceforth as many ambushes as they will; let them addresse the last assaults of their power to encounter me; let fastings macerate my body; let Sackcloth and Cilices torment my flesh; let tribulations op∣presse me vnder their weight; let the long vigills shorten my lyfe; let him there giue affronts of his

contempt, and heere of his cruelties; let cold freeze the bloud within my veynes; let the scorching of the Sun tanne me; let its parching reduce me into ashes; let aches cleane my head in peeces; let my hart re∣uolt agaynst my Soule, my visage loose its colour, & all the parts of my body stoope to their ruine; let me yield my lyfe to the suffering of diuers torments: let my dayes slide away in weeping & continuull teares; and let the wormes, in fine, take hould of my flesh, and the corruption of my bones: All this would be nothing to me, so I might enioy Eternall Repose in the day of Tribulation.

I will belieue it, O great Saint: for what is it to endure al the euils of the world with∣in Tyme, for to possesse all desirable goods in the bower of Eternity! O sweet residen∣ce, where Ioy eternally endures, and where delights are immortall! Where nothing is seene but God; where they know nothing but God! If they thinke, it is of God; if they desire, it is God himselfe. And howbeit the harts do there sigh without cease for loue, those sighes proceed not, but from the con∣tentments of fruition, where Loue alwaies remaines in its perfection. Let Antiquity vaunt as much as it will of the Temple of Thessaly, of the Orchards of Adonis, of the Gardens of Hesperides, of the pleasures of the fortunate Ilands: Let Poets chaunt the plea∣sures

of their Elizean fields, and let humane Imagination assemble in one subiect what∣soeuer is more beautiful and delicious in na∣ture, & they shall find in effect that all is but a vayne Idaea, in comparison of the immor∣tall pleasure of this Seat of Glory. Let them imagine a Quire of Syrens, and let them ioy∣ne therto in Consort both the harpe of Or∣pheus, and the voyce of Amphion; Let Apollo and the Muses likewise be there to beare a part: all this melody of these consorts were but an ircksome noyse of Windes & Thun∣ders in competency of the diuine harmony of Angels. Let them make a Perfume of all what Sweets soeuer that Arabia & Saba hath had; let the Sea cōtribute therto all its Amber, and the flowers all their Balme; such a perfu∣me notwithstanding would be but a stench & infection, in regard of the diuine odours, which are enclosed in the Emperialll Hea∣uen.

O how S. Paul had reason to dye of loue, rather then griefe, in his prolongation to reuiew the felicity which he admired in his rauishment! I desire to dye in my self, for to go to liue in him, whom I loue a great deale more then my selfe, sayd he, at all seasons. O sweet death, to dye of Loue, but yet the lyfe more sweet, that makes this Loue eternall! Me thinkes

the sad accēts of that great King Dauid strike nine eares, when he cryed out aloud, This life to me is tedious in the absence of my Lord. This Prince possessed the goods of the Earth in aboundance, and Greatnesses and Pleasures equally enuironed the Throne of his abso∣lute Power: in such sort, as he had all things to his harts content. But yet for all that, he could not choose but be trobled in the midst of the delights of his Court, since so we see his hart to send vp sighs of Sorrow vnto Heauen, to liue so long a tyme on Earth.

What sayst thou now, my Soule, of the Greatnesses & Magnificences of this diuine Pallace, where Honour, Glory, and all the Maiesties together expose to view whatso∣euer els they haue more precious and more rare: where Beauty appeares in its Throne in company of its graces, of its sweetnesses, of its baytes, of its allurements, and of its charmes; where, with power alwayes ado∣rable it attracts the eyes to its admiration; & through a vertue, borne with it, subdues their lookes to the empire of its perfections. In such sort, as the eyes cannot loue but its obiect after admiring it, they are so taken with the meruailes, wherwith it abounds: where Goodnes exercising its soueraigne power forges new chaines of loue to attract

the harts vnto it; and after hauing made a conquest of them, it nourisheth them with a food so delicious, as they neuer breath but of ioy, transporting them wholy in the accō∣plishment of their felicity. In such sort, my Soule, as all the pleasures together being e∣leuated in their first purity are there found to be collected in their origē, to the end the Spi∣rit might neuer be troubled to seek its desires.

Consider the difference that is betweene the Contentments of the Earth, and those of heauen; I would say, those of the Pallace where Creatures make their aboad, and of those where the Omnipotēt lodgeth. Thou hast seene within this first Pallace, the Mea∣dowes enamelled with flowers, the Cham∣paygnes couered with rich haruests, and the Valleys peopled with a thousand broo∣kes; but these spring vp at the peeping of the Aurora, and wither at its setting. These haruests fetching their being from corrup∣tion, returne in an instant to their first be∣ginning, after they haue runne daunger, to serue as a prey to tempests, and disport to the winds. And these Brookes, feeble in their vertue, may well moderate the ardour of a vehement thirst, but not quench it wholy, since the fire thereof alwayes renewes from its ashes. On the contrary, within this cele∣stiall

house, the Lyllies wherewith the Vir∣gins are crowned, and the Roses which the Martyrs weare equally on their head, re∣mayne alwayes disclosed as if they grew continually. The haruests there are eternall, & in behoulding them, their diuine nature hath this property, that it satiates the Soule through the eyes, after so perfect a manner▪ as it is rauished in its repose. The Fountay∣nes are of bottomlesse Springs of all the im∣mortall delights that may fall vnder the knowledge of the vnderstanding; & how∣beit they quench not thirst, yet haue they power to do it: but to make their sweet∣nesses more sensible, they entertayne the drougth within their Soules, without dis∣quietnes, to the end, that being allwayes a dry with a thirst of loue full of pleasure, they may alwayes drinke, that so without cease they may rest contented.

Within that first Pallace the chaunting of the Birds did charme thine eares; and with∣in this heere the sweet musicke of the Angels rauisheth Spirits. Within that terrestriall dwelling, the Spring, the Summer, & Au∣tunme were incessantly occupied in produ∣cing thy pleasures, & in this celestial bower an Eternity accomplisheth thee, withall the goods wherto imaginatiō may attain. There

beneath had you diuers houses of pleasure for to walke in; and heere on high, the first thought of a desire is able to build a num∣ber without number, within the spaces of the Heauens, with a perfection of an incō∣parable Beauty. So as if thou be delighted with the Courts of the Kings and Princes of the world, to behold the Greatnesses that attend vpon them, turne away with a trice the eyes of thy memory from those little Brookes of a transitory Honour, & admire this inexhaustible Ocean of the immortall Glory of the Heauens, where all the happy Soules are engulfed, without suffering ship∣wrack. Be thou the Eccho then, my Soule, of those diuine words of the Prophet Dauid, when he cryed out so, in the extremity of his languor; Euen as the Hart desires the currēt of the liuing waters; so, O Lord, is my soule a thirst after you, as being the only fountaine, where I may quench the same.

Thou must needs, my Soule, surrender to the Assaults of this verity, so sensible, as there is nothing to be desired besides this so∣ueraigne good, whose allurements make our harts to sigh at all howers; How beauti∣full are your Eternall Pauillions? and how excee∣dingly am I enamoured with them (saith the same Prophet?) My soule faints, and I am rapt in ex∣tasy,

when I thinke, I shall one day see my liuing God face to face. O incomparable felicity! ••o be able to cōtemplate the adorable perfecti∣ons of an Omnipotent! To behould with∣out wincking, the diuine Beauty of him, who hath created all the goodly things that are! To liue alwaies with him, and in him∣selfe! Not to breath but the aire of his Grace and not to sigh, but that of his Loue! Shall I afford the names of pleasures to these con∣tentments, whiles all the delights of the world are as sensible dolours, in comparisō of them? For if it be true, that a flash of a feeble Ray, should cause our eyes to weepe in their dazeling, for the temerity they haue had to regard very stedfastly its light; is it not credible, that the least reflexion of the diuine brightnes of the Heauens, should make vs blind, in punishment, for glauncing on an obiect so infinitely raysed aboue our Power? In so much as whatsoeuer is in E∣ternity can admit no comparison, with that which is cōprehended in Tyme▪ The Feli∣cities of Paradise cannot be represented in any fashion, because the Spirit cannot so much as carry its thoughtes to the first degre of their diuine habitation. Hence it is that S. Paul cryed out, That the eye hath neuer seene the Glory which God hath prepared for the iust. What∣soeuer

Saints haue said heerof may not be ta∣ken for so much, as a meere delineation of its Image. And when the Angels should euen descend frō the Heauens to speake to vs ther∣of, whatsoeuer they were able to say, were not the least portiō of that w^ch it is. It is wel knowne that Beautitude cōsists in beholding God, and that in his vision, the Soule doth find its soueraigne good; yet for al that, were this as good, as to say nothing: for howbeit one may imagine a thing sweet, agreeable and perfectly delicious in the contemplatiō of this diuine Essence; yet were it impossible this good imagined, should haue any man∣ner of relation with the Soueraigne, which is inseparable to this Glory. Let vs search within the power of Nature, the extreme pleasures, which it hath produced in the world hitherto from our Natiuity, and their Flowers shalbe changed at the same tyme into thornes, if but compared to those plants of Felicity which grow in the Hea∣uens. Gold, Pearles, the Zephyrus, the Aurora, the Sunne, the Roses, Amber, Muske, the Voyce & Beauty, with all the strang allurements that Art can produce, for to charme our senses with, & to rauish our Spirits, are but meere Chimera's, and vaine shadowes of a body of pleasure, formed through dreames, in equa∣lity,

to the least obiect of contentmēt which they receiue in Paradise. Which makes me repeate againe those sweet words with S. Paul, When shall it be, Lord, that I dy to my selfe, for to go liue in you? And with that great other Prophet; I languish, o Lord, in expectation to see you in the mansion of your Eternall glory.

What Contentment, my Soule, to see God! If the only thought of this good so ra∣uish vs with ioy; what delights must the Hope produce, and with what felicities are they not accomplished in its possession? The Spirit is alwaies in extasy, the Soule in ra∣uishment, and the senses in a perfect satiety of their appetits. Dissolue then, O Lord, this soule from my body, for I dye alwaies through sorrow of not dying soone inough, for to go to liue with you. When as those two faithfull Messengers brought equally betweene their shoulders that same goodly bunch of Grapes from the land of Promise, the fruit so mightily encou∣raged the people of Israell to the Conquest thereof, which had produced the same, that all fell a sighing in expectation of the last Triumph. Let vs turne the Medall, and say that S. Stephen and S. Paul are those two fai∣thfull Messengers of this land of Promise, since both of them haue tasted of the fruit, & haue brought to Mortals the happy newes

thereof. So as if in effect we would behold another Grape, let vs mount with S. Peter vp to the Mounth Thabor, where our Sauiour made the Apparition, through the splendour of the Glory which enuironed him. And it is to be noted they were two to bring this fruit, since there were two Natures vnited to one Person only. So as, my Soule, if cu∣riosity and doubt transport thy Senses to be∣hold the body of those beautifull Shadowes of Glory which I represent to thee; harkē to S. Stephen, while he assures thee that he saw the Heauens open. Lend thine eare to the discourses of S. Paul, when he saith, How all which he had felt of sweets and pleasures in that bower of felicity, cannot be expressed, because it cannot be comprehended.

The desire which S. Peter had to build three Tabernacles vpon this mountayne all of light, enforceth thee to giue credit, and belieue through this shew of fruit, that the soyle that beares it, abounds in wonders. And that thus we are to passe the Red-sea of torments and of paynes, within the Arke of the Crosse of our Sauiour, for to land at the Port of all those felicities. They are put to sale, my Soule; so as if thou shouldest say to me, what shold be giuen to buy the same; demaund them of thy Creatour, since he it

is that first set price vpon them, on the moūt Caluary. The money for them, is Patience in aduersity, Humility in Greatnesses, Cha∣stity in presence of prophane obiects, and finally the Exercise of all vertues together, in the world, where Vice so absolutely rei∣gneth. And if thou wilt buy thē with that Money which is most currant, and wherof God himselfe made vse, thou art to take thee to the Scourges, the Nayles, the Thornes, and the Gaul, and by a definitiue sentence to condemne thy lyfe to the sufferance of a thousand euills.

But let it not trouble thee awhit to pro∣nounce this Sentence agaynst thy selfe: for if thou cast thy selfe into the burning for∣nace of diuine loue, thou shalt find the three Innocents there, in cōpany with the sonne of God, where for to sing forth his glory, thou shalt beare thy part. If thou cast thy selfe into the Sea of thy teares, Ionas shalbe affording thee roome within his little Ora∣tory, for the publish togeather the diuine meruailes of the Omnipotent. If thou cru∣cifiest all thy Passions, S. Peter wil lend thee another halfe of his Crosse, to participate of his Triumph; so as in the extremest dolours, shalt thou be tasting the extremest delight. What may happen to thee in thy sufferāces

worse then Death? Ah, what is more glo∣rious then to suffer and dy for loue! And af∣ter God, what may we loue besides him? What may we desire, since his diuine pre∣sence very perfectly fils vs, aswell with hap∣pines as with Glory? If we must needs be stoned, as S. Stephen was, what ioy to haue our Soule enforced to go forth of the body with the strokes of flints, that those very stones might serue as Stayres to mount vp to Heauen by?

If we be to be laied on the gridiron as S. Laurence was, shall we seeme to complaine against the fire, for reducing vs to ashes, while we are but ashes ourselues? And then a Hart which is truly amourous, doth burne of it selfe; in such wise, as the flames of the world, cannot but help it to dy readily, which is all it desires. If we be drawne in peeces with foure horses, as S. Hyppolitus was, are they not sweet streynes of pleasure, ra∣ther then of payne, for to haue the life snat∣ched away with the armes and legs, for the Glory of him who hath created the Soule of that body? And besides, what an honour was it to S. Hyppolitus to see his Spirit carried on a triumphant Chariot, so drawne with foure horses to the Pallace of Eternity? If one should be fleaed with S. Bartholomew,

what a happines, trow you, would it be to him, who liuing but of the loue of God, shold behould this amorous life, by a thousand wounds, to abandon Nature it selfe? & after hauing made of his bloud a Sea of loue, to fynd on its waters the port of Eternall ioy? If they throw vs downe headlong, from a pinnacle of the Temple, as S. Iames was, how sweet a thing to be oppressed vnder the weight of this Crosse! Should we haue so little courage amidst so many companiōs, who with their bloud haue tracked vs out the way of glory.

The Pagans who euen buryed their ho∣pes in their Tombe; not pretending other good, then that of a vayne Renowne, haue let vs see some kind of magnanimity in their actions; for whatsoeuer horrour and amazement Death may haue with it, yet could it not daunt them awhit, till the last shocke of its assaults. Mutius vanquished the fire with one hand, which vanquished all things in seeing it deuoured with its flames, without being moued with it. Rutilius foūd his country in his exile. Socrates drunke vp a glasse of poyson to the health of his Spi∣rit, for to giue testimony to his friends, that he was not sicke of the feare of death. And Cato, he made of his bosome a sheath for his

poynard. Ah! and what! Shall all these Soules of the world haue offered such glori∣ous triumphs to vertue without knowing it; and we trample its Aultars, and profane its Temples, after we haue adored them? for though all be impossible to base Spirits, yet a generous hart can do all. What a shame were it for thee, my Soule, to fly those pe∣rils that giue Crownes? cāst thou not bold∣ly thrust thy selfe pell-mell into a throng of ten thousand crucified, fifty thousand be∣headed, an hundred thousand rent with Scourges, two hundred thousand ouer∣whelmed, & murderd with seuerall punish∣ments, wherein cruelty exercised its tyran∣ny? Of a million of poore Hermits, and of Religious who haue happily yielded vp their life to the rigorous austerities of a num∣ber without number of dolours? And final∣ly of two Millions of holy Soules, all sa∣crificed on the Aultar of the Crosse?

Darest thou go to Paradise, by a way all strewed with roses, knowing thy Sauiour to haue passed by that of Thornes? What a shame is it for thee, to be in Paradise alone without hauing suffered a litle euil for him, who should bestow so much good vpon thee? What wonder shines in this diuine Thought, that he who hath created the

world, should haue suffered all the euills therof for recompence? He hath made the Thornes to grow, for to crowne his head withall. He hath formed in the Earth the mines of Iron, for to forge the nayles; and with the liberal hād of his Prouidence, hath he watered the trees, which furnished the Iewes with those stakes wherunto he was tyed; and at the same tyme fed, & protected the false witnesses that accused him, the Iud∣ges that condemned him, and the Executio∣ners who tormented him. It is true, in the order of his iustice, he condemned Adam to death, and in the order of his loue he exe∣cutes the Sentence vpon his owne lyfe. He would haue miseries to reigne in the world but it was but for himselfe, since he hath suf∣fered them altogether.

So as, my Soule, if in the extremity of thy Sorrowes, the feeblenes of thy courage should make thee to let fal some complaint, turne thy face to the Crosse-ward to admire the glory which is inseparable to it. One cannot go from one extreme to another, without passing through the midst; I would say, that from the Paradise of the Earth, we cannot ascend to that of Heauen, without passing through the fire, which is that midst where we are necessarily to be purified, lik••

as gould in the fornace. But since the gene∣rous are more animated through Hope of Recompence, then feare of payne; be thou touched, my Soule, with the sweet feelings of the felicity which is promised vs, rather then with the rigour of the Flames which are prepared. Thou wouldst yield to Loue rather then to Force, to the end thy desires be not mercinary. And represent to thy selfe that as the punishments of the guilty are e∣ternal, so are likewise the ioyes of the blessed immortall. After the tasting of a thousand yeares of pleasures, they haue not yet begun; after an hūdred thousand yeares of rest, they find thēselues in the first moment according to our manner of speaking. After a hundred thousands of millions of yeares of content∣ments of ioy & felicity, they are alwaies in the first point of their happines, with so per∣fect a ioy of the knowledge, as they do no∣thing but reioyce in those delights. In so much, as euen as long as God shalbe God, shall the Glory last, where the happy Spirits are filled with al sorts of pleasures, and con∣sequently for euer.

O Eternity, how profound are thy Abysses! The Imagination cannot sinke its plummet into the bottome of thē, but is alwaies grie∣ued to haue so ill employed its Tyme. After

it hath thought all its life on the meruailes, or rather on the miracles, which are enclo∣sed within thy labyrinthes, it dies in the im∣potency of approaching to the entry. This Dedalus hath no thred, this Carriere hath no stop, this Circumference hath no Center, nor this Line a point. Eternity termines to God alone, & God alone to Eternity. O in∣comprehensible Mystery, that a God should recompence a sigh of Loue, with an infinite loue! one moment of paine with an Eterni∣ty of Glory! For hauing tasted neuer so little of the vinegre of his Chalice, to quench our thirst for euer, in the torrent of these diuine Sweetnesses! For hauing shed one teare of repentance, to make vs liue eternally in ioy and smiles! For hauing fasted one instant, to satiate vs for euer with meats the most deli∣cious, which are found in Heauen. And fi∣nally, to recompence one night of trauaile, with a day of eternall Repose.

Thinke neuer, my Soule, but vpon this Eternity? What pleasures soeuer thou tasts in the world, represent to thy selfe they shall one day finish, and that in their end all the Thorns of their Roses shall assemble to ma∣ke thee feele the sorrow of their priuation; if thou wouldest haue content, be it not but for Eternity; it is to dye continually, for to

lyue with men, and it is to liue allwayes to lyue with God. It were to be vnfortunate to be happy on Earth, since the true way of felicity is Heauen. Felicity is as immortall as immortality it selfe, and whither Tyme cannot reach to, because it is out of Tyme. In such wise, my Soule, as thou shouldst learne to speake this diuine lāguage of the Angels, whose Eccho the Prophet is, when he saith, I languish, O Lord, in the expectation of seeing you in the mansion of your glory. Let this Languor deuoure thee, to the end, that dying of loue for thy God, who is soueraignely louely, thou maiest go to liue for him, since this is the only Spring of life.

Of the Infernall Paynes.

THE Great King Eze∣chias was brought to such a point of feare and asto∣nishment, when the Pro∣phet assured him he shold dye the morrow after, as that if his lot had reserued him for shipwracke, he had now runne that danger in the Sea of his teares. That fatall Sentēce tooke away his lyfe before he dyed; for from the moment that the same was once pronounced vnto him, he breathed but the ayre of Approaches to an ineuitable death, where all Sorrowes heaped togea∣ther in one what they had of bitter or rigo∣rous, to torment anew his afflicted Spirit. This poore Prince had but Sighes & Teares to defend himselfe withall agaynst the bat∣teries of a soueraigne Will. He plaines, but

of himselfe; he cryes but onely to moue Pitty; he armes his hand with fury against his bosome, and with redoubled blowes smites his breast, belieuing he layd hard on his hart the while, as complice of the cry∣mes, whose punishment he carryed. What shall he do? the night steales away insensi∣bly, and the light which shall succeed his darknesses, is not to shine, but to shew him the way to the Tombe. Sleepe hath already taken its leaue of his eyes, for feare of being drowned in his continuall teares. Repose abandons his spirit in feare of Death which possesseth him. In so much as being reduced into a last point of Sufferance, he apprehēds that euery sigh which he casts to the wind, is to be the last of his life. The remembrance of his faults so forcibly aggrauates the pu∣nishment, as he dares not thinke of them, but with the sorrow of heauing comitted them: a Sorrow indeed, so powerfull, as disar∣med the diuine Iustice of its Thunders.

This great King lifts vp his hart through Feare deiected, & constraines it to seeke for hope in that midst of despaire. He humbly cōfesseth the truth of those crymes, but with the same tongue wherewith he publisheth them, he protests before his God, & his Iudge to commit them no more; and for assurance

beseeches the same God, and the same Iudge to cast downe his eyes into the depth of his Soule, to see the feelings therof; in so much as he was heard. Isay the Prophet receaues commaundement to reuoke the Sentence of his Death, to prolong the terme of his life, and to make the Sunne turne backe for some part of its way. O admirable Goodnesse! The whole course of the Vniuerse is chaun∣ged, rather thē to refuse a mans request who promiseth to God to chaūge the course of his life! But what difference betweene the Sen∣tence which the Prophet pronounceth on the behalfe of God to a guilty King, & that which God himselfe shal pronounce on that great day of his Iustice to the criminal Sou∣les? They are both verily two Sentences of Death; but the one is signified in Time by a lyuing man, to a man that is liuing yet; & the other is proclaymed out of Time by a God, to Spirits which are criminall, & incapable of repentance. Besides, we see how the first Sentence was reuoked through grace, while the other remaines inuiolable by Reason. Mercy moderates the rigour of that there, & Iustice augmēts the paine of this heere with an Eternity! O most dreadfull Sentence!

There was with the Persians a certaine Prison, whence the guilty were neuer to go

forth, which they called by the name of Lethe, as who would seeme thereby to represent a place of Obliuion, & where the Thoughts of men do neuer approach. This Prison may well be compared to that of Hell, from whence the Thralls do neuer get forth, nor where the happy Spirits do neuer descend in thought. It is a place of forgetfulnes, since God remembers not the wicked Soules, but to cause them only to be tortured by the in∣struments of his Iustice: They haue no other dwelling then that of their sepulchers, cryeth out the Psalmist; which is as much to say, as they shalbe buried eternally in the tombe of Hel; or as S. Augustine saith, they shalbe full of life in the midst of their torments, in being al∣waies renewed againe amidst their paynes, without euer dying. O cruell life! Seing it is more vnsupportable then Death! Let the most afflicted Soules appeare, forsooth, vpon the Theater of their Martyrings; let Iultius recount at large the history of his sufferāces. Let Persindas represent to vs sensibly the cru∣elty of his punishment, at the light of the Sunne, where he is exposed al couered with honey to the mercy of the Flies. Let Lepidus Crassus communicate with vs through Con∣tagion, a part of his euill at such tyme as they straitly bound his body to a carkasse, to the

end the stench might serue as a Torturer to tyrannize his lyfe to death. Let Phocinas the Locrian, shew vs clerely by the light of the Fire which consumed him, the torments wherewith he was tyrannized, in feeling himselfe by little and little reduced into Ashes.

Let Pamindus the Philosopher expresse to vs, in the Amazement of his mortall si∣lence which the punishment of his tongue cut out had brought him to some feeble do∣lour of his smart. Let Lysander buryed in the brasen Bull by the Tyrant of Syracusa make vs to heare the sad accents of his cryes for to publish with the language of his plaints, the truth of his torments. Let Lelius Cooles dis∣couer in his countenance, the terrour and the anguish of his hart, vpon the Cliffes of the Sea, from whence he was cast downe headlong. Let Martius Neuola mixing the wind of his sighs with those that enkindled the flames which consumed him, conueigh to our eares the sad harmony of his last groa∣nes. Let Virgilia the wife of Lertius the Romā, relate to vs at leasure the traunces of Mar∣tyring of a hart impoysoned by the cūning Enemy, who by litle and litle extinguished her in a long course of yeares, to make her sensible by degrees of all the rigors of death.

Let Emilia represent to vs, in her despayre, the anguishes of a dying Soule, amidst the presse of her disastres. Let the wyfe of Bru∣tus send to our eyes the smoake of the bur∣ning coales, that consumed her bowels, to let vs feele the heat wherewith she was bur∣ned. Let Messina, before she pluckt out the Hart from her bosome, partake vs with her torments, where through a Sentence of her fury, she condemned her self in making the one part of her Body to serue as a Hangmā to destroy the other. Let Eugenia making a halter of the silke of her Harpe, giue vs some testimony of the dolour of her precipitous Death. Let Cleopatrae infect the Ayre with the Poyson, which deuoured her life, for to make vs Companions of her euils.

All these kinds of Martyrings, these Tor∣tures, these dolours, these vncouth tormēts and these euils without example, and these tyrannies exercised by men, more cruell thē Tygres and Beares, can admit no compari∣son with the least paine of the damned. The Thornes of these sufferances, are Roses; and the bitternes of these anguishes is but hony. One moment of the paines in hell is more intollerable then an Age of Afflictions in this world. Let them lend their eares to the lamentable cryes of Ampilaus King of the

Pyroti, when as being fastened to his rich Couch with the rude chaines of a thousand dolours procured through a Sciatica, his tor∣ments pluckt out the hart from his bosome without snatching away the life, and with a cruell encounter drew his Soule to his lips without suffering it to go forth. To bewaile the rage whereto his euill had brought him, makes him to throw out fire by the eyes, ra∣ther then to power out water; to complaine with Sighes, of the excesse of his sufferances, learnes him a language so dreadfull, as the noyse of Thunder is not more terrible thē that of his voyce, made hoarse with the force of crying. They do well to decke his bed with the richest ornaments that may be found, to bring him rest, while his body is a Bush of Thornes, wherewith his Soule is straytly hedged in: In such sort, as the points of its thornes do afford him a thousād prickes of dolour & martyrings, whose very thought is full of horrour. They may cast their lookes of pitty on him long inough, while Cruelty, which incessantly butchers him, makes them so feeble in his succour, as he alwaies breaths in the death of his paines without being able euer to dye.

But turne we the Medall, and lend the eare of our imagination to the warnings of

of that great King Pharao, bound in hell on a bedd of deuouring flames, which burne without consuming him, and which con∣sume him, without reducing him to ashes. What inequality of euills, and what diffe∣rence of cryes? The one in tyme feeles very piercing dolours vpon a couch of Thornes, and the other suffers a thousand paynes, all eternall, vpon a bed of fire. He there yields vp his miserable lyfe, to the last shocke of a cruell torment; and he heere reuiuing all∣wayes of his Ashes amidst his punishment, lyues not but to dye in his sufferances of a death eternally lyuing. The former com∣forts himselfe with the hope of a Tombe, & the latter finds increase of his torments, in the despayre of euer seeing an end. Let them thinke a litle on the sensible tormēts, wher∣with Tegonus, that great Prince of Almaine was afflicted, when as his hart serued be∣fore hand as a Coffin for the worms, which gnawed him without cease to deuoure his lyfe. A punishment as cruell as prodigious: this was a lyuing death, gliding in his bo∣som, where it forged darts of incomparable dolour for to martyr him withal. He wants for nothing in the midst of his Greatnesses, and yet wants he all, since all fayles him of his content. His subiects are about him to

receyue his Commaundements, but he knowes not what to commaund them for his succour. The remedyes they offer him are vnprofitable in the ignorance of his mala∣dy; for the skilfullest Phisitians of them vn∣derstand not the cause therof, which makes thē ingenious without thinking of it, to af∣flict him a new, in steeping his mouth with a thousand sorts of bitternesses. He cryes out in the extremity of his languours, but ech one by his eyes makes answere to his ton∣gue, in weeping at the noyse of his sobs and his complaynts. And after hauing suffered as many deaths as he sent forth sighes, he payed at last the tribute which he owed to Nature.

Cast yet the view of your imagination vpon the backside of the Medall, to heare the cryes, a great deale more hideous, of ano∣ther Prince abiding in Hell, being touched with the malady of a worme which gnawes him eternally, without deuouring him. He sees all his Subiects about him, as culpable as he, but in the astonishment they are in, they answere him but by the eyes only, as vnable to succour him, or to helpe themsel∣ues. The Deuils are his Phisitians, who not knowing the meanes to cure him, inuental sorts of punishmēts to tyrannize his Soule.

But what difference of paynes? That Prince of the world findes this consolation in his afflictions, that after the wormes shall haue deuoured his Hart, his life shall haue an end with the end of their prey, and consequent∣ly his punishment. And on the contrary this Prince of Hell, finds alwaies the begining of his euills in the end of his paines. The worme that gnawes him, is immortall like as the prey which it deuoures: In so much, as his dolours remaine extreme in their excesse. The one turning his Face to the Tomb∣wards, beholds there his sufferance buryed with him, and the other sees himselfe bury∣ed yet lyuing within a tombe of Fire, which through a cruell property entertaines that which it burnes, to the end it may neuer wāt matter.

What may be imagined more insuppor∣table, then the torment wherewith Charles King of Nauarre dyed of? The Phisitians knowing he had a very little life left him in the body, employed this vayne deuice for his comfort, forsooth, to sow him vp in a sheet steept in Aqua-vitae, of purpose to pro∣long his life; but the ill lucke was, that the seruant who had sowed him therein, burnt the end of his threed insteed of cutting it a∣sunder, where to say better, he burnt the

whole sheet, and the King that was shut within. Represent we to our selues now the fearefull cryes of this vnhappy Prince, who being enchayned in a straite Prison all of Fyre, casts forth the last sighes of his life, in the Flames, quickened with so excessiue an heate as they may not be compared but to chose of the Fornace. They come to his Suc∣cour, but Death at that instant, touched with pitty, preuents the helpe they could afford, in finishing his euils with the end of his life.

But looke we yet still in the backeside of this Madall, vpon the torments and cruelty which a new King suffers in the midst of Hel, being fast enchayned within a burning prison, where he alwayes burnes without euer dying. What difference of Torments! The one is left to the mercy of deuouring flames, being watered with a water which increaseth the heat; imploying in vayne for his Succour, the endeauour of his voyce; & the other enuironed with despaire, endures the paine of eternall Fire, which burnes him without taking away his life. You see very sensibly, O you soules of the world, how the payne which one suffers in this vale of teares, cannot be compared, how cruell soeuer, with the least dolours of the dāned. I

I graunt the Stone, or Grauell, the wind∣cholicke, the Sciatica, and a thousand other Maladies besides, deliuer you into a restles combat of punishments, and torments, yet their sharpest fits, their piercing points, their gaul, and their rigours are true pleasures, ioyes, and rauishments of Spirit, in compa∣rison of the sufferings of Soules eternally criminall.

Let Lucius Fabius maintayne as long as he will, in the discourse of his miseryes, how the last day of his lyfe had lasted three Monthes, he lyuing the while without be∣ing able once to close the ey-lids at the ap∣proch of sleep. Let Theocrates, publishing his vnhappines, vaunt contentiously in the presence of the most afflicted Soule, how he had lodged thirty six yeares in a bed, in cō∣pany with a thousand sorts of payne, which visited him one after another. Let the vn∣fortunate Caricles, trayling without cease the durt of his body, through that of the streets of Athens, for the space of sixty yeares, moue cōpassion in the harts of those, which neuer had it, in consideration of his Misery; yet is the lamentable history of al these euils a ve∣ry Canticle of ioy and gladnes, in compari∣son of the sufferances of the damned. For if Fabius haue watched three monthes in the

world, Cain neuer sleeps in hell: if Theocrates haue passed his Thorny life in a like couch, & that he neuer came forth to re-enter into the Tombet; it is fifteene hundred yeares or more since the Richman hath lodged in a bed of flames, in the midst of Hell, with∣out hope that the ice of death shall euer slake the heate of its fires. Let Caricles trayle his li∣uing carkasse, in the diuers wayes, which lead him to the Tombe, he finds yet a Port after so many stormes; but Pharao may be dragged long inough, by the deuils in Hel, ere there be any death, or sepulcher for him, which may afford him an end to his paines. So as the difference is so great betweene the euills of the one, and the punishment of the other, as one cannot thinke of it, but with a profound astonishment: How profound, O Lord, are the Abysses of thy Iustice!

You Soules of the world, pul off the veyle that blinds you so; Breake you the rackes of your Passions, that with-hould you in your vices. To what purpose, thinke you, is a moment of pleasure, while it robs you of eternal glory, and brings you forth a Hel of dolours? A little shiuering of a Feauer makes you to quake for feare. A fit of Heate makes you to breath the aire of a burning life, & to sigh at once with the ardour which

consumes you quite. Alas! What would you do in Hell, where the Cold of Ice, where the Heat of the flames shal by turnes tormēt you eternally? One glasse of a potion, one little twitch with a launcent, two nightes without sleepe, within a bed very softly made, brings you to the last gaspe. Ah! What shall it be in those darkesome places, where a gaul, more bitter then gaul, shalbe alwaies in your mouth! Where a thousand strokes of the launcets of fire shall pierce you, not in the veyne, but to the hart, with a wound alwayes bloudy, and euer new, for to eter∣nize the payne thereof; where a perpetuall vnrest shall banish rest for euer from your spirit, and sleepe from your eyes.

There was a great Personage of our tyme who had so great a horrour of Medicines, that al the euils whose dolours he had proued were a great deale lesse sensible to him then their bitternes; In so much, as after he had tasted the gaule thereof diuers tymes, this cō∣ceipt came into his mynd, that when there should be no other punishment in Hell then that of taking continually medicines, it would be insufferable. But I should thinke that if all the gaule, and all the bitternes of the Earth were put together in a vessell, one would take that liquour for imaginary

Nectar, in comparison of the puddle, & salt waters, whereof the damned are made to drinke. Bethinke your selues, profane Spi∣rits, who establish in the world the founda∣tion of your repose. Open your eyes to be∣hould the disastres which enuiron you. You seeke a Paradise on Earth, but you find not in it, any other Center then Hell. What pre∣tend you? Pleasures can accompany you no further thē the Tombe, you must quit their company wirh life. Now what a griefe hath one in dying to abandon the seat of delights for to enter into that of torments?

Admit, one had passed very pleasantly a hundred yeares of life, at the last moment of that tyme, what satisfaction remaines him thereof, since by the law of diuine Iustice, it must necessarily ensue, that euery one in his turne shalbe gathering the thornes of all his Roses? Euery ioy hath its sadnes, euery for∣tune its crosses: so likewise may we boldly say, that euery pleasure hath its payne. If we let our first life runne out in content∣ments, the latter shal become immortall in punishments. This is an inuiolable decree pronounced by God himselfe, vpon the Mount of Caluary, that he who will not fol∣low the way which he hath taken vpō him▪ for to go to Heauen, shall neuer enter ther∣in.

Flatter not your selues, you Princes of the Earth, who being raysed vpon Thrones of snow and smoke, forget your selues so much in your Greatnesses, as you become Idolatours of your good Fortune. If you be borne puissant, consider how your power is of glasse, and that with all your Treasures you shall not be able to purchase a moment of assured life. All the aduantage you haue a∣boue others, is to be able to hide your faults with the more artificiousnes, vnder your sumptuous habit; but vpon the vncertaine day of your Death, shall you make demon∣stration of your misery; and the Corruption which you carry within, must necessarily appeare without. Thinke you that the Em∣pire which you haue heere beneath, extends any further then the Sepulcher? Euen as at your birth you were wrapped in Clouts; so likewise dying, wil they be foulding you in a sheete, how rich soeuer you be. And your Diademe shall remaine in your Pallace for to Crowne others withall, in the selfe same way where they are to follow you, since they likewise are continually to dye.

But this is not all, you are also to passe the examine of your life before a soueraigne Iudge, and dreadfull in his Iustice. You shal haue no other succour thē that of your wor∣kes.

If they be good, their recompence is prepared; and if they be naught, then pay∣nes attend them. In what amazement, and in what terrour is a Soule brought vnto be∣fore the face of his God, whiles his crymes accuse him, and condemne him to euerla∣sting fires? O how the Iudgements of God are different frō those of men, cryes that great Saint! You delicate Soules, whome a little griefe makes to looke pale with feare, astonish∣ment and feeblenes, what will you do in Hell, where euills are in their excesse, with∣out finding any end in them? The noyse of a fly troubles you, and that of a Caroch hin∣ders you from sleepe. Ah! What shall that be in those darcksome places, where the dreadfull cryes of the Torturers, and of the guilty shall continually strike your eares? If you passe but one might only in the world without a winke of sleep, you fall to com∣playning after you haue fetched a thousand & a thousand sighes, in expectation of day; & there below, within those obscure dwel∣lings, the darcknesses are eternall, like as the disorders and disquietnesses are.

One winters day killes you quite with∣in the goodly prisons of your chambers, & a summers-day within that of your Halles, built of proofe agaynst the heate of the sun

for to auoyd alike, the incommodityes both of cold and heate; And in Hell shall you alwayes burne, if the cold of ice doe not giue you some respites to the tormentes of your fires, and by that meanes one punish∣mēt come to succeed another. Hēce it is that the Prophet cryes; Lord haue pitty vpon me, in the day of thy Iustice. O day full of horrour & amazement! Where the liuing flames, after they haue deuoured the world, shall pro∣secute the guilty Soules in the deepest A∣bysses, for to exercise the Iustice of the Om∣nipotent! What vnprofitable cryes, what vaine lamēts! They may sigh long inough, for the voyce of their repentance shalbe so feeble, as it shall not be able euer to cōuey its accēts to the cares of God. But what disor∣der also of a iust cruelty? The innocent shall curse the guilty Father, and shall reioyce in his torments, as in so many effects of the diuine Iustice; for the punishments of the damned make a part of the felicity of the happy Spirits, reioycing in the Iustice of God, as well as in his Mercy. The cryes of the accursed Soules, O Lord, are as so many Canticles of thy Glory, since they publish incessantly the truth of thy Iustice.

O impious Soules, in your voluntary blindnes! Why will you not suffer your rea∣son

to see how the pleasures you tast in this world, do bring the consequence of the e∣uills, which you suffer in the other? When will you confesse, that the hope which ma∣kes you to imbrace with so much affection the future, is vayne and deceiptfull, & that it hath for foundation of its promises, but the argument of your Misfortunes. You run after imaginary goods; & in the end of your Carriers, you shall find but true euils. Since repose seemes as naturally sweet vnto vs, why haue we not the Eternity therof? Our lyfe is a new Hell of annoyes and disquiet∣nes, and yet neuertheles within the Hell of this life, we build to our selues another Hel, to lyue there eternally. What a prodigy of cruelty do we seeme to exercise agaynst our selues, for to sell an immortall felicity, for a moment of pleasures? So as if the ioy which is promised vs, hath not baites which are powerfull inough to attract vs to it, let the payne which followes the offence, pu∣rify our desires, & iustify all our enterprises.

O, how S. Augustine makes, on this sub∣iect, a sweet harmony to resound in our ea∣res, when he sayth; I loue thee not, Lord, for the feare I haue of thy Hell, nor for the hope of thy Pa∣radise, but rather for the loue of thy selfe. How many mercinary Soules do we see in the

world, who haue no other obiect in their actions, thē that of Glory, or that of Payne; & in a word who loue not God, but for his Paradise, nor feare him awhit but for his hel. What affectiō? As if vertue had not Charmes inough to make it selfe beloued without the helpe of recompence, and of paine? Alas, Lord! what manner of respects would the wicked affoard you in this world, if you could be without Paradise, or if you had not a Hell, for to exercise your Iustice in? since with all your felicities, & your punish∣ments, they so deepely forget the Greatnesse of your infinite Glory, and your equall po∣wer, as to liue without yeilding to your di∣uine Maiesty, but the least homage of thoght. Who as if they were Gods themselues on e∣arth, regard not Heauen, but to looke on the Starres.

My Soule, Loue then thy God, for his owne sake, since he is perfectly louely; nor euer thinke of his Paradise, but in thinking of him, since he is thy soueraigne Good. Fe∣are him in like manner, without musing on the Thunders of his Iustice, with an amou∣rous feare, which hath for obiect, but Hu∣mility, and Respect. So as, if in this world the Good be alwaies good, content thy selfe with the satisfaction, which is inseparable

to it. For Vertue hath this proper to it, that of it selfe, it recompenceth those who put its precepts in practice; euen as Vice incessan∣tly racks and tortures those, who follow it. All laudable actions produce in generous harts, certaine feelings of ioy, so extreme, as when Renowne shall haue no Laurels nor Palmes for to crowne them with, yet he that is the Authour of them, shal not cō∣playne thereof, since he hath beene already rewarded for it, euen before he lookt for a∣ny certaine recompence at all. And the cō∣trary is noted in pernicious & criminall ef∣fects. Payne can hardly be seuered from the Offendour, nor the Hangman from the Guilty. A secret torment glides in his en∣trailes, and himselfe serues as a Hangman a∣gainst himselfe, for to tyrannize vpon him∣selfe: So true it is, that diuine Vertue of it selfe communicates the good of its Nature, and Vice the euill. But let vs not go forth of Hell with our thoughts, for not to enter thereinto in effect.

Flatter not your selues so; my Dames, as to thinke that Hell belonges not to you; it is for the guilty. Iudge your selues without passion, whether you be exempt frō cryme or no, since at all tymes, & at euery moment you offend God diuers wayes. If you will

mount vp to Heauen after your Death, first descend into Hell during your life, and re∣present to your selues liuely the deplorable estate, whereto the miserable are reduced; I meane those Soules, which haue lodged heretofore in as beautifull bodyes, as yours are; and pursue you with your thoughts the toilesome occupations whereunto they are eternally condemned. You rise in the mor∣ning to take a liquour all of Amber for its sweetnes, and of Pearles for its price; and going forth of your bed, you enter into your sumptuous Cabinet, where your faire Mir∣rour attends you, to represent you as faire as euer. There it is, where you consider at lea∣sure the dumbe▪ Oracles of its deceiptfull Glasse, of purpose to learne of it some new secret or other in fauour of your Beauty, be it to shadow it with a little fly, or with some tresse of hayre, disheueled in disorder on your cheekes, & vpon your brow, least the wrinkles cause not a feare in your Thralls. What new charmes, what graces neuer seene before, do you borrow from the care you take, to cultiuate the Flowers of your face of Earth?

You passe ouer at your pleasure three hou∣res of tyme, and a full whole day if the hu∣mour take you, to teach your eye with

what grace, how, and with what force it should cast its looke, for to wound the hart withall; with what smiles, and with what proportion, you should open the mouth, to let the doble rowes of your pearles appeare, or rather to speak truly, of your rotten teeth, which incessantly deuoure the pleasures of your life. You shamefully lay open your bo∣some, all of Snow, which melts with the glaunce of the eye; and by a meanes which you haue taught it, you make it sigh with pauses, for to moue the rocky harts with its sweet pulses. What crime so playne to make the whole world guilty? For the furthering of these errours, you dresse vp your body, all of dust & earth, with the richeh Ornamēts, and then it is, that imitating the Peacocke, you waxe proud of the beauty of your plu∣mes, without casting your eyes the while v∣pon the miseries which serue you as foūda∣tion. What turnings & windings of Vanity do you fetch before your glasse? But which way soeuer you turne, if you open the eyes of your spirit, you shall see the corruption w^ch you couer vnder a fraile skin, bedawbed al ouer with a plaister. Issuing forth of your Pallace, you go to visit the Temples to pro∣fane them, for insteed of adoring God, who hath guided your steppes thither, you make

your Vassals to adore you there, & through a guilty power snatch away the vowes, and sacrifices which belong to their Creatour.

You are now returned againe into your Pallace, you count the number of your cō∣quests; your naughty Genius alwayes in ac∣tion to deceiue you, persuads you to belieue that your eyes worke the same miracles, which the Thunders do, since they wound the harts, without any feeling of the bo∣dyes; and in this beliefe you commit a thou∣sād crimes of vanity. In the meane while a Page comes to call you to the Table, where all the delicious meates are serued in, by or∣der, before you. And during the repast, af∣ter an eloquent Parasite shall haue charmed your Spirit, with the melody of prayses, which you deserue not, a Musike of instru∣ments charmes your eares with new allu∣rements of Sweetnes. They present in the plates of your latter course, the sweetest spoyles of the foure Seasons. And while of custome the Musitians are tuning the Mo∣tect of your Perfections▪ you sollicitously enquire of some one of yours, what manner of weather it is? If it chāce to rayne, you shut your selfe vp after dinner within your Cabi∣net of pleasure, for to heare in particular the sweet voyce of a Page, whome you cause to

sing the Ayre which best agrees with your passion. The rayne is blowne ouer, and the Caroch attends you at the gate of your Pal∣lace, for you to walke abroad, in the compa∣ny of those who are most agreable to you, into the Forrests and Parkes, whose wayes are bordered with flowers, and enriched al along with cleere fountaynes, where the water appears so limpide, as persuades harts with the dumbe language of their purling, to quench in their siluer streames the thirst they feele.

In the meane tyme the Sun is set, to cause freshnes to arise from the humide imbraces of its deere Thetis; and then it is, when the Aire powres on the plants, the drops of the sweate, which the heate of the Sun hath caused in it, during the tyme of its course, whiles the Birds fall a bathing thēselues, in singing in the litle waters of this dew. The night comes slowly on, and its returne seemes to bring you a thousand pleasures; for during the repose of its reigne, an infinite number of sunnes, whereof art is the wor∣keman, hung vpon the seeling of your chā∣ber, illumine its obiects for to make the be∣auty therof appeare. What idle discourses are there broght forth in iest? The flatterers play anew their parts in the presēce of your blind

Spirit, and in their Comedyes they repre∣sent to you, the fabulous History of your Actes, worthy of prayse, with warrant of their credit, but full of reproch according to the truth. The Tyme notwithstanding is slipt away, they call you to Supper, where the appetite is contented with deli∣cious meates, whose sweetnes art seemes to vary diuers wayes. After the repast, you re∣turne to your Cabinet, or rather into your terrestriall Paradise, where the Musike at∣tends you, for to charme the senses of your eare, since those of the eyes, of the smell, & of the tongue haue beene satisfyed already.

The Clocke which euer wakes, doth ad∣monish you, without thinking of it, how the night is slid away for to fetch vs day a∣gayne, which sweetly constraynes you to passe from the repose of your waking to that of sleep, for to giue more liberty to your spi∣rit to entertayne it selfe with dreames. But then to bring you a sleepe more sweetly, you still cause delicious Musike to be soun∣ded euen to your bed. The Damosells bring in your bags, & prepare your night-stuffe, which attends you at your glasse, where before you vndresse your selfe, you admire anew the Sweetnesses, the Graces, the Moles, the Charmes, the Allurements & the

curiosity of your Beauty, & with an Idola∣trous eye, you often cōtemplate the imagi∣nary perfections of your face. Thē glaūcing your eyes on the very same eyes, you loue them now more then euer, in remēbraūce of the new cōquests they haue made that day: your cheeks of lilyes & roses, your necke of iuory, your snowy bosom, & alabaster hāds; these are the foolish termes of your seruants which haue part in this affection, as hauing contributed their power to the achieuemēt of these conquests. And then do you culti∣uate yet more, according to your custome, by a guilty care, those Roses and those Lil∣lyes of your feature, that they wither not in the absence of the Sun, I would say, during the Ecclypse of that of your Eyes, whose sweet influences make them to blow forth.

At last they lay you on a bed most reful∣gent, all gorgeous in riches, and whereon it seemes, as if the happy Arabia had powred forth a part of its odours; and to attract the sleepe more sweetly into your eyes, you cause to be sent for some pleasing Musike of a Voyce, which rauishes your senses with so much sweetnes, as they dye with ioy, with∣out dying notwithstanding. Are not these great pleasures, trow you, if they could last? I speake to Soules who seeke their Paradise

on Earth. But the common calamity so pre∣uailes, as these delights euē dy in their birth, & their priuation affords them a great deale more torments then doth their presence pro∣duce sweetnesses.

Let vs cast now our eyes at the last, on the backside of this Medall, & consider the cruel Metamorphosis of these contentments, in the intollerable punishments which Eter∣nally torment a damned Soule. Let vs be∣hould the cruell exercise of its paynfull pro∣gresse in Hell. You must take no great heed to the terms of Day, of Mattins, of Euening, or Morning-calles, whereof I serue my selfe in this ensuing description, for that I am forced thereunto, to keepe some order in my discourse. The deuils in the morning then, come to awake this damned Soule, howbeit indeed, she sleepeth not a wincke through the dreadfull noyse of their howlings. These are the Chambermaydes which fetch her out of her bed all of fire, for to conduct her into a Cabinet all of Ice, not of Myrrors, for she durst not haue lookt thereinto, for feare of the feare of her selfe, so hideous and dreadful she is. These wicked Spirits do help to dresse her after they haue made her take a draught of Sulphure within a rotten Vessell, where the worms do breed in sholes. One combes

her head, and that with a combe of iron with sharp points which makes the bloud to follow. Another colors her cheekes with the red of Spayne with a pensill of fire. He there washes her face with puddle water, & scal∣ding hot withall; and he heere puts on a robe of liuing coales on her backe; and in this equipage a new Deuill more hideous then death presents himselfe to her, & serues her as an Vsher to conduct her to a burning Chariot, to conuey her not to a Temple, but to the foote of a dreadfull Aultar, where she is cruely sacrificed without loosing her life.

They lead her afterwards in the same cha∣riot into a dismall Pallace, where she finds the tables couered, and set with all sorts of poysonous and contagious Serpents, wher∣with they feast her. All that dinner while a hideous noyse of howlings, and dreadful cryes, serues for the Musike to charme her eares withall. After repast is she brought backe agayne to her Cabinet, where all the obiects of horrour, and amazement are as∣sembled togeather for to afflict the sense of her sight. And after that, a Deuill sings her an Ayre, whose ditty is the Sentence of her condemnation, and this verity the bur∣den of it, How the paynes she endures shall be e∣ternall. What a Song? The tyme of her wal∣king

approaches, they bring then the fyery Chariot before the gate of her darkesome Pallace. She mounts into it, and thence rage despayre, fury and cruelty draw her into an obscure forrest of Cypres, where the Ow∣les and Rauens do screech incessantly; so as she heares but the noyse of death, not being able to procure death. She is now returned, she finds the same Table spread agayne, and with the like Cates, whereof she feeds of force, to the noyse of a like Musike to that of dinner. Being risen from Table, the Deuill that hath the charge to wayte vpon her, co∣mes againe into her Cabinet and sings her likewise the same Canzonet of her dreadful Sentence, with the selfe same burden as be∣fore, How the paynes which she endures shalbe eter∣nall. In the meane tyme they bring her to a bed of thornes, whereinto they cast her at such tyme as she was wont to take her rest in the world; and thus passeth she ouer the night in these torments, without euer seing any end thereof. Is not this a fearefull life?

Behould, my Dames, the exercise of those who haue imitated you in your pleasures. Behold the employments of their whole progresse. These are no fables I tell you, for like as the noise of the swindge of the world doth hinder you from hearing the sweet har∣mony

of the motions of the Heauens; so the selfe same noyse seemes to hinder you like∣wise from vnderstanding the hideous cryes of a Cain, of a Pharao, of an impious Richmā, and of a thousand of others your like, who haue hitherto after so lōg a tyme beene bur∣ning in Hell, and so shall burne for euer, without hope to see any end of their panes. That depends now on you, my Dames, to chuse to you one of these two liues heere. If you be tasting of hony in your youth, you shall haue but bitternes in your old age. If you gather the Roses in your spring, the Thornes shalbe reserued for your winter. Chuse hardly, behold your selues expressed as Vlisses at the entrance of two wayes, far dif∣ferent the one from the other. That of Ver∣tue is stwowed with Nettles, and couered with Stones, & that of Vice is enamelled with flowers, and bordered with brookes, whose sweet murmur inuites you to fol∣low the traces of their course. So as if you would needs know, where both these ways do termine themselues; the one in eternall Death, and the other in Life. And herein the example of an infinite number, which haue beene saued by the one, & lost by the other may seeme to put you out of doubt. All the Saints, & in word, all those who are in Pa∣radise

haue held the first, & al the dāned haue wretchedly followed the other. Demaund you of the Rich-man what way he tooke? he will answere you, that he hath alwayes walked vpon Flowers, & that he neuer met with Thornes, till the arriuall at his Se∣pulcher. Make you the same demaund of La∣zarus, & you shall heare of him, that he hath neuer trod but vpon the Earth, all couered with bryars, nettles, and sharpe stones, and that euen at the end of his trauailes he found the beginning of his glory.

Thinke not, my Dames, to be gathering of the Flowers in this world, and then to be reaping of the Fruits in the other. All things are created in a Species of Contraries, which serues as a Ciment to hould them togea∣ther. The faire weather of your life seemes to menace Rayne at your Death, and God graunt it be not a Floud of vnprofitable tea∣res, where without thinking thereof, you find not your Shipwracke. The calme of your daies presages the storm of your nights, and take heed you find not some rocke in the tyme of the tempest. I must needs con∣fesse, how the Poets haue hid very excellent verities vnder the veyle of their Fables; that Cerberus with three heades, whome they fi∣gure to vs in hell, is nothing els but the de∣uill,

who as a Monster of many heades eter∣nally deuours the damned. Their Ryuer of Cocytus, or Phlegeton, demonstrates to vs the tormēts of death. The lake of Auernus where troubles and sadnes inhabite, what els may it seeme to represent vnto vs, then the dis∣mall dwelling of the wicked Spirits? The great Famine they faigne of Tantalus, lets vs cleerely to behould the scarcity and penury of all goods which the damned haue. The Vultur of Titius which incessantly preyes on the hart without deuouring it, doth figure nought els, then the worme of vnprofitable Repentance, which gnawes without end those vnhappy Spirits. The wheele wherin Ixion is tortured, as likewise the Pitchers which the Danaides filled in vayne, are as so many witnesses of the Eternity of paynes of the damned Soules; which lets vs see how euen those who establish their true Paradise in this world, haue built thē without thin∣king of a Hell in the other, where they are euerlastingly punished.

O cruell Eternity! What torments dost thou truly comprehend in thy long durance there beneath in Hell, where a million of ages in punishments cānot forme a first mo∣ment of some end! After one hath endured and suffered an infinite nūber of paynes, du∣ring

as many years as there hath been instāts in the Tyme since the birth of the world, may he not wel affirme, that he had liued in those torments, but for the space of an houre only, if he were to liue alwayes in dying, & alwaies to dye liuing, in Hell, without re∣lease or respit? My Dames, I speake to you, because you haue the Spirit wādering in va∣nity. If you sigh for anguish in expectation of a Day, vpon a bed of roses, with what im∣patience will you be rackt in Hell, during those Eternal Nights? You shun the breath of the fire, and the burning of the Sun, as the enemyes of your beauty; why feare you not rather the tanning, and burning of the eternall flames? Let me dye rather, sayd Nero's wyfe, then to become foule and wrinckled. Would you be conseruing your beauty which is so deare vnto you, for a few dayes, and liue without it eternally in Hel? If you could but behould the foulnes & de∣formity of one damned Soule, the onely re∣membrance of the horrour, and amazemēt of that obiect, would be an intollerable pu∣nishment to you.

If Nature haue not a stronger tye of loue then that wherewith it hath enchayned vs with our selfe, is it possible, my Dames, that you can exercise such a cruelty against

your selues, as not to wish to liue cōtent, but in the world, where your pleasures are like to dye with you? If Hell affright you not for its punishmēts sake, let the Eternity ther∣of breed a terrour in you, to be vnhappy for euer. To be in the cōpany of deuils for euer, doth not the thought thereof only seeme to astonish you, since there is nothing more true then it? If nature, as a Step-dame, hath denyed you the fortitude of men, at least it hath giuen you the force of a Spirit, for to know your errours. Loue not your beauty but to please the Angels, rather then men, since it is a diuine quality, whose admiratiō appertaynes to them. To burne alwayes! Alas. Seeme you not to resent, in reading the lamentable history of the punishments of Fire wherewith the damned are tormē∣ted, some little sparkle of its flames, through a strong apprehension of incurring one day those paynes? I speake heere to Thee, who readest these verities, to bethinke thy selfe of this singular grace, which God seemes to vouchsafe, in permitting this same Booke to fall into thy hands, so to discouer this sē∣tence, which I haue signifyed to thee on the behalfe of God; That if you change not your life, you shalbe damned eternally. O cruell Eternity!

O My Soule, thinke alwayes of this Eter∣nity,

what torments soeuer thou sufferest in this world, say thou alwayes with Iob, My euils shall one day haue an end. O how happy was this man to be exposed on the dunghill of al the miseries of the world, as on a moū∣taine, where tuning the Harpe of his fee∣lings, and of his passions, to the Key of his Humility, & of his Patience, he sung the glory of his Lord in the midst of his infamy. What canst thou suffer heere beneath, more cruell then the paynes of the damned? And yet if thou shouldst euen suffer a part of their punishments, without the priuation of grace, thou shouldst be happy, because those euils would termine one day, to the fruitiō of thy soueraigne good. Then trample thou the thornes vnder thy feet, giue thy selfe in prey to dolours & sufferances, nor haue thou euer any other consolation then that of Iob, in saying without cease, My euills heere shall one day finish.

The Houre of Death.

WE MVST DYE: This is a law of necessity▪ whereof himselfe who made the same, would not be exempted. We must dye: This is a sen∣tence pronounced, now for these six thousand yeares, in the Pallace of the Terrestriall Paradise, by an omnipo∣tent God, whose infinite Iustice hath not spared his proper Sonne. We must dy: All such as hitherto haue beene, haue passed this way; those who now are, do hold the same; & they who are not as yet in appro∣ching to the Cradle, do approch to the Se∣pulcher. We must dy: But we know not the hower, the day, the moneth, nor the yeare: we know not the place, nor the manner of the Death, whose paynes we are to suffer.

We must dy. Since we hould the life but as borrowed of him that created the same. We must dye, it is an euil that hath no remedy; al our children must dy, as our Fathers did, after they had shewed them the way, which our Grandfathers had tracked for vs. We must dy at last, since we dy euery hower, because the aire which we breath, being none of ours, we cannot serue our selues of it, but as others do in passing on till to morrow. We must dye, since that all which is in vs conti∣nually tends to death, without release or in∣termission. The very fetchings of our breath are counted, as well as our steps. In so much as all our actions are not wrought, but for a certaine terme, whence Tyme conducts vs by litle and litle to death. We must dy: This is a verity which experience proclaymes to all the world; and to the end no man may euer doubt thereof, the Sonne of God hath signed the Sentence with his bloud on the mount of Caluary.

You must dye great Monarkes, what mar∣kes of immortality soeuer you haue. Be you as eloquent as you will, Demostenes is dead; be you neuer so valiant, Alexander is layd in his Tombe: If you haue force for your inheritance, Sampson is buryed vnder the ru∣ines of the Temple which he demolished.

If you be faire, Absalom is reduced into Ashes. If rich, Cresus is no more of the world; if wise, Salomon is now not lyuing; if happy, Dauid is expired in the midst of his felicities. In fine, what quality soeuer you haue, it is alwayes inseparable from the mortall con∣dition wherein you are borne. You must dy and appeare in this fatall Couch, not with your gorgeous Attire, nor Royall Mantles, but rather with shirts, well steept in a cold sweate, where your liues are to run ship∣wracke. To cary your Crownes vpon your heads, they are so feeble, as they cannot en∣dure the weight. To hold your Scepters in your hands, candles rather would beseeme you better, to affoard you light to find the Sepulcher. Your Subiects are already assem∣bled about your beds, to see anew this ve∣rity, that you are all equall in the necessity of dying. Those Titles of Maiesty, which they affoard you, haue no more grace with them amidst your miseries.

Me thinkes, in truth, it is very much to call you Men, since you begin to be no more so. It is euen iust now that you are to dy, the day is come, the hower approches, death is already on the way to your Pallace, you may do well if you please to put your Soul∣diers in Centinell, for to stop him in the en∣try.

Behold how he knockes at your Cham∣ber doore, you must necessarily vouchsafe for to speake vnto him, since he comes on the behalfe of God, to signify the sentence of death vnto you. I doubt me that you haue the Spirit much occupyed, in the appre∣hension of your present affayres, and that you would willingly put of the accompt to some other day, but that may not be; Tyme hath strooke the houre, which is to beare sway at the end of your daies. What sighes, what sobs, what plaints cast you forth to the wind? the remēbrance of your Greatnesses past torments you now, while your guilty consciences put your soules on the Racke, like as the dolours already haue put your bodies. For to cast your eyes vpō the guilded Seelings, were to increase the horrour of the Sepulcher which they pre∣pare you. To behould likewise your Cour∣tiers who stand about you, the displeasure you find to leaue them, makes you to turne your view another way. Whereas it were better to set your eyes on the approches of Death, and in the feeling of your present Miseryes, to publish in dying this verity, that you are but ashes, durt, & corruption.

Diogenes was walking one day in a cer∣taine Churchyard, where he entertayned

his sad thoughts in the meditatiō of death, at what tyme Alexander surprized him by a suddaine approch, & demaunds of him what he was doing in so dismal & solitary a place? I am busied, said the Philosopher, in seeking out the bones of Philip your Father, amidst so great a number of these you see heere, but the payne which I take is vnprofitable, be∣cause they are all equall. This Answere is full of Mysteries, for it seemes to represent vs to the life, this Verity, That the greatest Kings of the world differ not awhit, but in goods and greatnesses only, from the wret∣chedst that are, since in the Tombe they re∣semble ech other so much, as it were impos∣sible to marke any difference betweene them.

But me thinkes, the houre is already spent, and that Death knockes harder now at the Chamber doore then before. Behold how he enters in, carrying his Sithe in the one hand, & an Hower-glasse in the other, to let vs see that if he mow the hay of your life with his Sithe, the sand of the Hower-glasse which he carries, being taken for the Foundation of your vaine-glory, is euen now run out; so as if there remaine any little behind, it is but only to giue you leasure, to open your mouth, for to cast forth the last

breath in this last moment. O fearefull momēt, wheron depends the Eternity of Glory, or the Eternity of paine! This is that last breth which condemnes, or iustifies all those who haue gone before. O fearfull moment, wherin is pronounced the Sentence of our second life or Death! O fearefull moment, since it pre∣sides the birth of our wretchednes, or of our felicity! O fearefull moment, wherein all our good, or euill consists! O fearful moment, wherein Paradise is offered, or Hell affor∣ded! O fearefull moment, wherin we are made companions for euer of the Angels, or of the deuils! O fearfull moment, where the Soule before God, findes the Eternall recompēce of its good deeds, or euerlasting paynes of its crimes!

O fearefull moment! what ioyes, what sor∣rowes, what pleasures, and what dolours doest thou comprize in thy short durance! As often as I thinke on thee, I do tremble with feare, for this moment is a great deale more dreadfull, then death it selfe. This only moment is it, my Soule, whereupon the Eternity depends. Imploy thou all those of thy life vpon the thoughts of this last. Thou approchest vnto it euery hower, euery in∣stant robs thee of somewhat of thy former life. Whatsoeuer thou doest, thy body doth

nothing but dye, & from its transitory life, depēds thy eternall life, for out of the Earth canst thou merit nothing for Heauen. Thinke thou alwayes on this last moment, where Crownes and Punishments are pre∣pared; Crownes of an infinite glory; Pu∣nishments of a dolour immortall. All thy actions shall there be receiuing their price or paine: Price of Paradise, or payne of Hell. Hence it is that the Prophet cries; I shall re∣member the day of my death for to liue eternally.

Cast your eyes now vpon those Kings, extended dead vpon their rich Couches. What say I, those Kings? can Maiesty & cor∣ruption be compatible together? What ap∣parence of beliefe, in beholding them to be such, that they are Kings▪ since all their Royall qualities are dead with them? Would not a man say, they were heapes of Earth, so raysed aboue the Earth, where the worms are beginning to take their fees? Approach to this fatall couch, you proud Spirits, who measure the globe of the Earth through this vayne beliefe, that you merit the Empire of it, and in your imagination contemplate the while those that possesse them in effect, and you shall behold them quite through teares laied stretched at your feet, without pulse, & without motion. Their Maiesties are full of

horrour, and miseryes in their turne haue ta∣ken hold of their owne, since they are all borne mortall, and consequently miserable; what strange Metamorphosis from Colos∣sus's of Greatnesses, quickened with a lyfe full of splendour and of glory, to be chaun∣ged in an instant into an heape of durt, whose putrifaction infectes the whole world?

You Monarkes, Kings, Princes, be you Idolatours of your Greatnesses as much as you please, I attend you at the end of your Carriere, to let you see on the backside of the Medall, that you are but corruption; & if you doubt thereof, let him that suruiues another, approch to his Tombe, & he shall sensibly know, that there is nothing more true in the world. Thou miser, approch to this mournfull Couch, there is place inough for thee. Thou needs must dye, the houre is strooke; but tell me, how much gold and siluer dost thou leaue in thy coffers, and to what end serue they but to purchase thee Hell? Thou must yield an accompt of thy extortions and oppressions. Death comes to summon thee on the behalfe of God, to ap∣peare within an houre before the Tribunal of his Iustice, to heare thy sentence of death pronounced by his owne mouth. What

wouldest thou not giue to prolong, yea but a day onely, the terme of thy departure? But all thy treasures cannot buy thee a mo∣ment of lyfe, thou must dye.

O cruell necessity, and yet more cruell the dolour, which now seemes to martyr thy soule! Thou must dye; Thou maiest weep long inough, for death is blind; thou maiest cry as fast as thou wilt, while he is deafe; for to hope that the Greatnes of thy miseryes may mooue him to Pitty, he nei∣ther hath hart, nor bowels; & if he liue not∣withstanding, it is for nothing but to en∣force al the world to dy. Thy houre is come thou must dye; Alas! How many deaths dost thou suffer, ere thou loosest thy lyfe. Thou leauest thy children rich, it is true; but dyest miserable thy selfe, in the state of damnation. Behold thee well recompenced for the paynes thou hast taken, in heaping so much wealth, forsooth, to loose thy soule! Cruell to thy selfe! Thou hast not lyued, but for others. Infidell! thou hast betrayed thy selfe. Murderer! thou hast snatched a∣way thy lyfe, with an vnnaturall hand, im∣ploying thy care to fil thy coffers with gold and thy soule with crymes.

You Misers, if you read the history of these Verities, deriue your profit frō the domage

of others, & for the auoyding of these pier∣cing griefes, and the intollerable dolours of this last momēt of life, imploy all the others to thoughtes of the Eternity of glory, or of Payne. And imitating the Prophet, say with him: Lord I wil remēber me of the day of death, for to liue eternally. You must appeare, my Dames, ech one in her turn in this lamētable couch. The watch which Death seems to cary in his hand, hath strooke the hower already of the departure of the fairest. She must needs dye, but assist, I pray, at this sad spectacle. Me thinkes I see her now farre different from that which she was wont to be. Alas! What a chaunge! I seeke for the Maiesties which I haue sometymes seene in her brow, and I find nothing els but horrour, and amaze∣ment there. I demaund of her eyes, what is euen become of them, for they are buryed so deepe in her head, as they but loose sight of them who seeke for them. Her cheekes as sticht one to the other, do hinder her from opening the mouth, in such sort as her tōgue can speake no more then a sad language of sighes, to call vpon Pitty, to contemplate her miseryes withall. Her armes very care∣lesly stretched forth, euen dy with their fee∣blenes; In fine her body of Earth deuoures by little and little the flesh that couers it.

Who would say now, seeing this Dame in the state whereunto she is brought, that she was the other day the fayrest of the Cit∣ty? Her company was a duncing with her at such a tyme, where all the Gallants that were there, fell a striuing to court her most. One valued the Gold of her hayre; another the Iuory of her teeth. This heere, admired the snow of her bosome; and he there, the alabaster of her hands. The casts of her eyes did wound many of them, and the allure∣ments of her graces, increased yet the num∣ber. The more indifferēt to loue, would be∣come great Maisters thereof, with the sight of her perfections: and yet neuertheles is it true (a strange thing) that her hayre heer∣tofore of gold, and now staring as it were, hath lost its lustre; that her teeth of Iuory are become blacke with the blast of death; that the snow of her bosome is dissolued; that the alabaster of her hands is faded; that the species of her eyes are dulled, so as if they wound as yet, they are but the woūds of Pitty. That her graces are without grace, and that in fine all those, who admired the same heertofore, come to repent themselues, and such as had loued her when tyme was, are now displeased with themselues, for ha∣uing euer so much as dreamed of her.

What cruell Metamorphosis, my Dames! If you cannot giue credit to the faithfull re∣port, which I make you of these verityes, cast but your eyes vpon this doleful Couch, and you shall see a lyuing image of your self, or rather a dying of one, now brought to the last extremes. You make such accompt of your charmes, behold them in the Tōbe; you prize your bayts so much, contemplate the same in ruine; you cherish your Sweet∣nesses so dearly, consider their feeblenes; you make a shew of your deliciousnes and your alluremēts, behold to what passe they are now brought. Vaunt you of the Roses of your face, as much as you please, they are no more but Thornes. If you lay forth to view the whitenes of your delicate com∣plexion, see you not how pale now dolour harh made it for to take away its beauty? All those lockes so curled in nets of loue; all those eye-browes so carefully elaborate with a trembling hand; that face so washed and plaistered ouer with a secret art; those paynted lips; that necke so erected through force of endeauour; those curious actions, those smiles, those Vn-voluntaries of hers, and all those agreable fashions are vanished now in an instant, and horrour and dread∣fulnesse possesse their place.

Alas! how the pourtraite of this Dame▪ which I see there hanging at her beds head, is differēt far from its originall? The shadow of that body moues to loue, the body of this shadow to pitty. The allurements of this liueles image are all full of charmes, and the draughts of this beauty yet liuing, wounds with feare, insteed of loue. The hower in the meane tyme seemes to passe away, and she must dy. Alas! what dolours do they feele in this cruell departure? From what payne are they exempt? This poore Dame beholds her selfe abandoned of all the world and which is worse of the Phisitians them∣selues. She sees not but by the light of mor∣tuary torches, which are lighted round a∣bout her bed. A confused noyse of sighes & plaints doth smite her eares; Her owne sa∣uour begins to infect her, and her feeling is exercised with the sufferance of a thousand sorts of paynes, and all very different in thē∣selues. Whatsoeuer she beholds afflicts her, because all the obiects which are represen∣ted to her, do carry the image of her doleful∣nes with them. Her Parents & her Friends are about her indeed, but they are as so many executioners that put her hart vpō the racke by reason of the griefe she feeles to forgoe them for euer.

Her only Brother comes to her, to giue her a kisse, all bedēwed with teares, and his moaning plaints do euen plucke out the hart from her bosome, as knowing them to be the very last. Her Father oppressed with sorrow comes to bid her the last Adieu, but all of sighes, in regard her euill now growne to extremes, seemes to put him to silence; in so much as his teares and sighes are feigne to speake for him to his dying daughter; who makes him answere in the same language, both of the eyes & hart, without being able to let fall a word. Her mother hath her eyes glued vpon her pale and diffigured counte∣nance; and in this dumbe action of hers, whereto an excesse of dolour hath brought her, she suffers a great deale more payne to see her dye, then she had pangs before to bring her forth. And so in order al those that loued her, and whome she dearely loued, came in, to yield her this last duty of visit. But howbeit they premeditated somewhat to say vnto her, their tongues became mute at their approch, and their eyes made supply of discourse in their fashion. For what me∣anes is there to speake in a dolefull place, where Death goes imposing an eternall si∣lence? The Priest approacheth to the bed, with a Crucifix in his hand, which he pre∣sents

to this foule sicke wretch: she takes it with a trembling hād, knowing it to be the Crosse, whereupon the Omnipotent Iudge was nayled. If she cast her eyes vpon his Crowne of Thornes, she drawes them into her hart, by her lookes, in remembring the roses, which she had deliciously troad vn∣der her feet during her lyfe: But there is now no more tyme to be carying the same into the soule, because her senses, as halfe dead, are vnsensible of their prickings.

If she reguard the visage of this her Sa∣uiour all couered with comtempt, she sinc∣kes downe with the confusion of the out∣rages, that she hath done to herself, remem∣bring the guilty care which she hath taken, in playstering her face of earth, and ruyning in that manner with a sacrilegious hand the sacred workmanship of heauen, and of Na∣ture; and for hauing imployed the better part of her tyme in these errours, to the dis∣paragement of her soule, as if the same were corruptible like the body. The torments which her God, and her Iudge hath suf∣fered for her vpon this Crosse which she holds in her hand, and which she neuer had borne in her hart, do shamefully vpbrayd her now, for the delights of her lyfe. Then falls she a sighing at it, but her sighs of wind

are taken but for wind; she weepes thereat, but her teares of water, are taken but for a litle water, since she cannot wipe away the blot of her crymes, because their spring de∣riues not from the hart; and that her teares proceed from the feare of present death, ra∣ther then from a sorrow of lyfe past.

There need no other witnesses to con∣demne her withall, then the wounds of her Sauiour; for as he had suffered all the paines of the world, so she had tasted all the plea∣sures. Alas! if she could but turne backe a∣gaine, and returne to the midst of the course of her life; if her words might haue the same vertue, which those of Iosue had, for to cō∣maund the Sunne to returne backe agayne to its East, to affoard her leasure to do pe∣naunce in; is it not credible, my Dames, but that she would be dipping the bread of her nourishment, within the water of her teares, for to bewayle her sins? But that is in vayne to desire the returne of life, since she must dy and the houre is already strook. Alas! how many liuing deathes deuoure this poore body, before her life be snatched away at last? What strange torment seemes to racke her soule? she dyes with sorrow, for not be∣ing able to liue any longer, and notwith∣standing euery moment of life is to her an

age of dolour. She is so engulfed in tormēts, as she imagines, that all the afflictions in the Earth, are assembled in her Chamber, or ra∣ther in her Soule, since now she is brought into extremes, through the force of anguish. Sorrow for the past, apprehension of the future, horrour of the Sepulcher, and the vncertainty she is in of her saluatiō, do hould her spirit continually on the racke.

That little which she sees, is but to bid Adieu to the light; that little which she vn∣derstands, is for her last: and being thus brought into this extremity, now it is when the diuel lets her see to the life, the pourtrait of all the offences which she hath euer com∣mitted, to the end the enormity of them be∣ing ioyned with their number, might make her to turne her face to despaire. To make yet an exact Confession, all her Spirits are in disorder, and the powers of her Soule so feeble, as they can serue but for resentment of her euills. She would fayne speake, but a mortall stuttering with-holdes her tongue halfe tyed; and on the other side the smart of the payne which she suffers, is so sharpe, as she cannot open the mouth but to cry. A dolour without cease torments her continu∣ally: her dying life is wandring euery mo∣ment, in the punishments she is in, & when

she finds her selfe, it is but to loose her selfe agayne in her syncopes, which are the fore∣runners of her Death. The eyes bolt out of her head, as if they had this knowledge, that they were vnprofitable vnto her; her mouth awry, and halfe open, giues passage, by the eye, vnto her bowells, to behold the tor∣ments she is in. It is now tyme, my Dames, you present her with a Mirrour, for to em∣ploy her last reguards, on the sad contem∣plation of the dreadfull ruines of her beauty; what faces makes she the while? her hideous looke affrights not only little children, but euen likewise the most couragious.

Behold your selues, my Dames, with∣in this glasse, if you will but apparantly see the faults which are hiddē vnder your own, from point to point, or rather vnder the Spanish white, wherewith you are payn∣ted. Behold into what estate are reduced your alluremēts, your charmes, your sweet∣nesses, and your bayts, which you so put in the rancke of adorable things. These are no Fables, no Illusions, nor Enchantements, these; you haue seen the other day this foule dying wretch, with a lustre of beauty, that dazeled all the world, who to day seemes to mooue you to pitty, and horrour at once. Marke well all her actions, but quickned

with dolour and dread: these are the true e∣xamples of those, which you shall one day suffer, it may be to morrow, or euen to day who knowes? And then, dare you waxe so proud of your beauty as you do, while the crust thereof is now thus broken as you see, in the presence of so many persons, who haue seene, how the inside was all, but full of corruption?

In this meane while, the sicke person dyes by litle and litle. It is now tyme, to make the funerall of those fayre eyes, since their light is thus extinct. The Priest may cry in her eares long inough, for death hath taken vp his lodging there, and euery one knowes that she is deafe. Her hands, & her feet are without motion, as well as without heat; the hart seemes to beate as yet, but it is onely to bid Adieu to the Soule, which is now a departing; and to tell you whither▪ I leaue you to thinke. Such a life, such a death. Let me only say, That the Iudgements of God are far different from those of men. Approach then, to this corpes, you profane Spirits, & through a sensible sorrow of hauing euer heertofore adored its Beautyes, participate with its death. Behold its hayre, which once you termed golden, and wherwith Loue v∣sed to serue himselfe, to tye the Freest; the

lustre now is vanished from it, the beauty is defaced, nor can it serue for ought, but to mooue pitty. That brow heertofore so full of Maiesty in your eyes, and where the Gra∣ces appeared in troupes (these are your ter∣mes is now become an obiect of hate, & cō∣tempt. Those eyes which you called, your Sunns, resemble now two Torches newly put out, whose stinke driues away as many as approch vnto them. The Roses of those cheekes are changed into Thornes; the coral lips are now of alabaster; the iuory neck is now of earth; the bosom now is no more of snow, but all of ashes; & finally this whole beautifull body, is flesh no more, but euen durt. And if you will not belieue me, ap∣proach neerer, & you shall resent the infe∣ction▪ thereof.

Behould, O you Courtiers the Idoll of your Passions. What a shame is it now for you, to haue adored this carkasse, so full of wormes and putrifaction? You made of its presence, during its lyfe, an imaginary Pa∣radise, and now you would make it a true Hell. Heertofore you could not liue with∣out seeing her dayly, and at this time, you euen dye, with the onely beholding her. It is not yet three dayes, since you kissed the picture with an action of Idolatry, & now

at this present, you dare not to cast your eyes vpon the originall, so dreadfull and formi∣dable it is. Represēt vnto you then, for your satisfaction▪ that all the fayrest Dames of the world shalbe reduced one day to this pite∣ous estate; and that all their graces, which are borrowed of Art, accompany them no more, then as a day of the Spring; in so much as if they waxe old, they passe the most part of their age out of themselues. For without dissēbling with the tymes, a Dame when she is growne in yeares, is fayre no more, she liues no longer in the world, they put her in the ranke of things which are past, & whose memory is lost.

Looke when a beautifull face comes to your view, and make you at that instant an Anatomy of it: if you cast your eyes vpō her faire eyes, represent to your selfe in that mo∣ment, how they are subiect to 63. diseases, all different one from another, and that one drop of defluxion produceth a contagion in those who behold thē. Her nose which you iudg so curious, is as a Siluer box ful of oint∣ments, for one cannot defend himselfe frō the infectiō which issueth thence, but with Muske and Ciuet. Her mouth is ordinarily infected, with the corruption of her teeth. If the Hands of this faire body seeme to ple∣ase

you, know you not how she steepes thē euery day in lye, for to make them white; I would say, that she is fayne to wash them e∣uery moment to take away the spots & foul∣nes of them. In fine, whatsoeuer you see of this beautifull body, is but playster, & what appeares not otherwise, but mere corruptiō.

Dresse then, and tricke vp your selues, you Dames, as long as you please; yet shall you not change, for all that, the nature you are of. If you charme the world through your false allurements, the world charmes you with its vayne promises. Do not flatter your selues, you are but clay, infection, and cor∣ruption. So as, if neuertheles you enforce any loue, it is but through imposture; for that, couering your face with a new visage, it is easy to deceiue those who haue no iud∣gement but in the eyes. If then you would leaue of Vanity, muse alwaies vpon Death, since you may happen dy at any houre, be it in banquetting, be it in walking. Go whi∣ther you wil, your paces conduct you to the Tombe. And at such tyme, as you stand be∣fore your Glasse, in the action of washing your face, imagine how it shall putrify one day, and perhaps to morrow, and that al the care you take, to make it white, will not hinder the wormes frō deuouring the same.

Yet after you haue imployed about it, a whole phiall of sweet water, shed at least one salt teare of sorrow for your sins, to wash your most enormous Soule.

What a shame is it then, for you to trick & trimme vp your body so euery day, wherof the wormes haue already taken possession, and to abandon your soule on the dunghill of your Miseryes, whereunto your crymes haue brought you? Hearken to the Hower that euen now strickes: what know you, whether if shalbe your last? do you find your selfe, trow you, in a good estate, to present your selfe before a dreadful Iudge, who hath so many Hells to punish the guilty? Your companion is dead already, and you take no heed, but euen run after her, euery moment without cease, or without any respit. How then is it possible, that you can runne so to Death, in the estate of damnation, wherein you are? Rather imitate the Parthians who in flying, triumphed of their enemyes. And weepe for sorrow of your life, in running to Death; and sigh in way of repentance to the last gaspe. Imitate also that great Per∣sonage who caused himselfe to be paynted on a B••ere, with his face bare, his hands ioy∣ned together, euen in the very same posture wherein he was to be layd forth after his

Death, and euery morning would he go to make his prayer before this picture; which succeeded so happily with him, as he dyed without any trouble, or disquietnes.

Syrs, I haue represented to you in the be∣ginning of my Booke, how there is nothing assured in this world; the which, me thinkes should oblige you first to lift vp your eyes to Heauen, for to see the Eternity of the glory which is there promised vnto you; and then as all dazeled, to cast them downe agayne, with the helpe of your imagination, into Hel, whose punishments also in part I haue described to you. Then returning to your self, consider how these felicities, and Eter∣nall paines depend on a moment; and this is the moment of Death, whereunto you approach euery houre. Repose your selfe then, euery day, for a quarter of an houre, vpon this dolefull Couch, where this late beautiful Dame hath expired; & diuert your Spirit in this tyme of grace, to thinke vpon that, which you would then be thinking of, when you shall come to be tyed thereunto with the chaynes of dolour & anguish. And these be the true Thoughtes of Eternity.

FINIS.