Pelecanicidium, or, The Christian adviser against self-murder together with a guide and the pilgrims passe to the land of the living : in three books.

CONSOLATORY ESSAY. III.

TRibulations surprise the Improvident, as Armed Men starting out of an Ambuscado. They are overcome, before they think on't. The Foolish scorn, and The Despe∣rate throw away their Arms. So will not an experienc't Souldier hazard. He will not move, before his Scouts come in. He will not go unprovided. He is acquainted with Dan∣gers. He Knows their Subtleties as well, as their Malice. Thé wise Travailer will not cast off his Cloak for Every Sunshine. He expecteth foul weather. A calm Sea cozens not the Sea∣man's Eye. He stands prepared for, though unseen, yet not unlookt for, Storms. Expect Tribulation!

Life; and Death appear to Men masked; and have false Fa∣ces (So goes the Story) Life, which is so ill-favoured, hath the Fair, hath the Beautiful Mask, which makes her of Most to be so Beloved. Sometimes Passion pulls it off; and Then men are frighted with the Uglinesse of her Look. Death, which is Fair, hath the gastly Vizard, which makes her by Most to be so Feared, and hated. But when That Mask doth slip, her Beauty appearing, She is much Affected, Sweetly

Welcomed, and Joyfully Entertained. Life indeed has many Spots, and Warts in her Face, and no few wrinckles in her Forehead; Her Eyes look much asquint; And her Cheeks are all furrowed. She is Fair in Prosperitie's Eye only; In Prospe∣ritie's; whose Brain is intoxicated. She seems to have a sharp Tongue; to speak too much, to talk too long to Those that are in Misery. But Her Counsel is wholsomest, when it is in the tritest, and plainest Language; And wise men do well under∣stand it. She has ever Sweat on her Brow, brawny Hands, and often a Thorn in her Foot. A Coach gives her the Gout; And a Feast puts her into a Feaver. She is healthfullest at Lowest Pension. Nature is content with a Little. Desire is Satisfied with Nothing. Affliction seems to rob, or take from Death, what's her Due; Paying some of her Hours to Death for A Quit-Rent; And stands Out to maintain Death's Title. Mille modis morimur is One of Her Cases; And She has Books enough for't; And wants not many an Experienc't Lawyer to become her Pleader; Though Afflic∣tion sues In forma Pauperis. Death seemeth therefore to be Her Friend; But yet is somewhat Lordly. For Death will hardly be intreated to visit Affliction; though much in∣vited.

This is to shew the troublesome Condition of Man; whose whole Life is a Procession week, from Crosse to Crosse. Ini∣tium vitae caecitas et oblivio possidet, progressum Labor, dolor exitum, error omnia. Childehood is a foolish Simplicitie; Youth a rash Heat; Manhood a carking Carefulnesse; Old Age a noysome Languishing; And his History is a Tragi∣comedy of Errours. Man is Instabilis tellus, a floating Island; tossed up and down with many Tribulations. Affliction hems him in on every Side.

Whosoere thou art therefore, that art Distressed in mind, for any outward Losse; or Crosse; Or hast an Inward Con∣vulsion for some Sin, that seeks to overpower thee; and throw

thee down, as from a Precipice! Read This short, well-in∣tended Tract of a weak ••nditer, and under God's Blessing thou maist profit as well peradventure, as by a Greater Les∣son from a Learned Hand! Read This, as An Epitaph upon the Living, who are dayly buried in a world of Sorrows! But dig not thine Own Grave with Anxietie; Nor do a Certain Mischief to avoid a Seeming Inconvenience! Heap not Affliction upon Affliction! lest the Burthen become too heavie. Tye not more knots upon the Scourge! Quid misero miserius non miserante Seipso? who shall have pitty upon Thee, if Thou beest Cruel to Thy Self? It is not thy Case Alone. For Every Man has his Pressure as well, as Thou; And Some far Greater. What art Thou, that hast not deserv'd a Punishment? Hast chang'd Thy Voice to Groans? Be Patient! Thine owne Unquietnesse rather, than The Weight, thou carri'st wrings thy Shoulders.

Examine the True Nature of what it is, afflicts thee! Thou maist think That a Monster, which is but a Shadow. Is it a Devil? Or a Bugbear? Bring it to the Test of thine Understanding! Use All good means to quiet and still The Hubub in thy Bosom!

If thou canst carry Thy Burthen no further; Go to thy Friend! thy Priest! thy Pastor! thy Physitian! Open it to Him! He will carry Part of it for Thee; Or direct thee, that thou maist find Ease.

But by All means avoid All Occasions of aggravating Thy Misery. For Thy Present Grief will goe out of It Self if Thou add'st not Fuell to it.

If thou wilt needs see thy Afflictions in a Glasse, let it not be a Multiplying, or a Magnifying Glasse, that may re∣present Them More, or More Horrid!

Give as little Freedom to Thy Passions, as thou can'st! For Those Wild Horses will run Suddenly away with The Whole Man.

If Thy Friend give Counsel, listen to it! It is as precious as Balsam. Comfort to One despairing is, as Cordials to The Dying. Refuse it not! Nor The Means to have it. A wise word in Time may Save Thy Goods; Thy Body; Yea thy Soul from Eternal Losse. The Sick have need of the Physitian.

Be not Obstinate against kind persuasion! For That is, as if thou didst sow up thy Mouth, when thou hast an empty stomack. Repentance, and that oft too late too, payes home the Denyal of good Offers.

In any Case have a Care, that thou rely'st not too much upon Thine Own Judgment!

Have a Care of Solitude, if thy Thoughts be not good enough to keep thee Company!

Keep not That Secret, that will, like Joab stab thee with An Embrace in the Dark. Why should'st Thou be the De∣vil's Second against Thy Self?