The Compleat mendicant, or, Unhappy beggar being the life of an unfortunate gentleman ... a comprehensive account of several of the most remarkable adventures that befel him in three and twenty years pilgrimage : also a narrative of his entrance at Oxford ... likewise divers familiar letters, both Latin and English sermons, poems, essays ...

ESSAY II.

He demonstrates Death simply, con∣sider'd as an exit out of the World, to be much preferrable to Life, both upon the account of the Evils from which it delivers us, and the Goods into which it Instates us.

Life considered under the simple No∣tion of self Activity, is so far a good or ill, as 'tis actuated by a Greater or Lesser sence of Pain and Pleasure, so that those Persons only that are sensible of more Pleasure then Pain, Life, consider'd barely in it self, can be any ways desi∣rable, and then I'm affraid too when we come to make the Parallel, we shall find that the Latter in General does so much out Ballance the former, that an exit out of the World, both upon the Account of the Evil from which it delivers us, and the good, into which it Instates us, is in most, if not in every thing, preferable to a continuance in it.

'Tis true indeed Humane Life may now and then enjoy some feeble short liv'd pleasures, but what then, they are so short and so uncertain beside; Nay, and what's worse, are so apt to cloy us to boot; that in all their narrow Circle the greatest part is little else but a mere priva∣tion of pain and Misery.

Most of the pleasures of Humane Life, are but as it were some small reprieves from Grief and trouble, a sort of Inter∣missions from pain and Miserie, of which, if we had never Liv'd we had never been sensible.

And besides all this too, our Insensi∣bility of Misery, is but partial and Im∣perfect, there allways clings some un∣lucky Circumstance to our chiefest plea∣sure, that gives our sweetest Gust a bitter farewell.

But Death cures us at once, when we go down to make our Beds in the Dust, there we sleep on and rest our selves, not only, out of the reach of a vain turbu∣lent Noisy World, but even out of the distance of the frailty and depravation of our own Humane Nature.

Seeing therefore that Death renders us intirely Insensible of pain and Misery, and that Life in its best and most Improv'd

state, is constantly expos'd to so many Dangerous Ills, it naturaly follows, that Death considered in it self, without any respect to the consequence, is really pre∣ferable to Life.

What it is that engages Men to be so much in Love with a little Paultry Flesh and Blood, I cannot guess, I am loath to think 'tis Cowardice or Inconsider∣ation; and yet when I come to take the matter into peices, and put it together again, I must own I can hardly believe to the Contrary, they must either want a right state of their Condition, have a wrong notion of Life, in General, or else be afraid to quit the World, and die, for besides those, I cannot Imagine what it is that Inclines 'em to doat so passion∣ately upon their own Infelicity.

And Pray, after all, what mighty ad∣vantages are there that they can morally propose to themselves in Living? Is it that they may have a little time longer to Pamper their lusts, entertain their Voluptuousness, and appease the raging Importunities of an unbounded appetite, if that be all, there's nothing but a Mouthfull of Earth will do their business, that Indeed will quench the flame of their Impatience, and mitigage the pain

of their desires together; and then I appeal to any Man of sence, if it be not far better to be depriv'd of their pain of a furious Expectation, then to be gratify'd with a troublesome Enjoy∣ment that commonly grows flat and loathsome as soon as 'tis in our possessi∣on.

Or perhaps they'd Live longer that they may get greater Estates, and so re∣move themselves further out of the reach of wretched Indigence, and be more secure from uneasyness and fatigue. But alas Poor man! if that's thy meaning, thou must e'en seek repose in the Grave, or no where. This World's so full of Noise and Nonscence: the Vanity is so Incor∣porated with the Vexation of Spirit, and thy own Nature is so Giddy and loose, so frail and so Imperfect beside; That 'tis the Vainest thing, a kind of folly exalted into madness to expect any tolerable Satisfaction in this Life.

When you go to the Grave indeed, you'll want your Friends to advise and comfort you, and your Companions and Acquaintance, to laugh and rejoyce with you, and you must be lay'd up in an Eter∣nal state of separation.

But what then, as you have no Friends to assist you, nor no Companions to divert you, so you'll want none, and then what mighty Injury will it be to be depriv'd of that you have no use for; beside you'll be deliver'd from the Danger of false Friends, from sly Acquaintance and Injurious Companions, which I must tell you, by the way, is no Inconsiderable Advantage; you'll be out of the reach of Treachery, Peevishness and Insolence, be deliver'd from Impertinence, vexation and discord, and all the rest of the Inconvenien∣cies that perpetually await Human Society.

What if you do cease to laugh and to be merry, you'll cease to weep and to be sad too, and truely I am apt to think that upon a fair Survey, that the sorrows of our Lives do so much out Number our Joys, that by exchanging the one for the other, we should be very great Gainers by the Bargain.

But then when you come to die you must undergo many a fierce Pang, many a bitter Agony; you must go out of the World thro extremity of Torture, Raving, & Foaming, Groaning, and Gnashing your Teeth; this is often true indeed, and the Consi∣deration is dismal enough; but, what, is there no Torments in Life as well as in

Death? is there no Wracks of mind, no Tortures, nor Stings of conscience, no ungrateful Jealousies, or dreadful ap∣prehensions? Is there no Pains nor A∣ches, no Gout, nor Stone, nor Strangu∣ry, appendant to our Mortality? Yes, yes; they're all the sad Appendages of our Humanity, and from Woful Experi∣ence, might convince us, if we had not lost our Sense of Feeling, that Life, drest up with all the Advantages that Humane Nature is capable of, is, at the very best, a most painful and dolorous thing.

What if we did enjoy a competent share of the Trifles of this World, or ra∣ther suppose, that all the Elements of Outward Happiness were amas'd toge∣ther, and thrown upon us at once, what good would they do us, if we could not form from 'em a satisfaction of Mind; and that's almost impossible too, consider∣ing how many embittering Circumstan∣ces are entwisted and grafted into our ve∣ry Being and Constitution.

Dic homo, vas Cinerum, quid confert flos facierum? Copiae quid rerum, Mors ultima meta die∣rum.

I must own, it has been often the Sub∣ject both of my Wonder and Sorrow, that the Fear of Death, for I can ima∣gine it to be nothing else, should so weaken and defeat the Courage, nay, the Understanding of Men, that they should be afraid to suffer the Grand Remedy of all their Calamities; the Cause of it must be this or nothing, they have liv'd Im∣moral Vicious Lives, and so are frighted at the consequence.

There is indeed one thing in Humane Life, and but one, that renders it a little comfortable, I mean Vertue, without which 'tis all a perfect Wilderness, a meer Weild of Misery, only a flat Parenthesis of Time, encompass'd on both sides with Dangers, Sorrow, Vanity and Vex∣ation.

The Vertuous Man alone can be said to live; the Vicious does but suck in and breathe out a little Air, as the rest of the Insensible Animals do; but he that lives vertuously, lives a Life worth being born for: and yet even a vertuous Life too is made more eligible and advantageous by Death, upon the account it makes our

Happiness more compleat, our Enjoy∣ments more extensive, and our possessions of 'em more fixt and permanent.

In the highest Enjoyments of Humane Life there is still more of Phantastry than of Real Good; our Expectations common∣ly over-run our Reason, and swell our Notions of things beyoud what they will Naturally bear: such wretched Cheats and Delusions are most of our Tempora∣ry Goods, that they will hardly endure the Test of a Fruition; so that from the repeated Tryals of the Truth of this, methinks we should at least grow a wea∣ry of this tiresome Scene of Vanity and Misery.

Upon the whole, Life seems to me to be a strange Composition of Good and Ill, some grateful Intermixtures there are in∣deed that make it a little the more pallat∣able: but yet for all that, if we consider it only under the Notion of self-activity, or rather as an Entrance into, or an Exit out of the World, Death, I'm sure, must be judg'd preferable to it upon many ac∣counts.

While we continue here, we are in a continual flow and reflow of things; to day Great, and Rich, and at ease; to mor∣row poor, and in contempt, and pain; now advanc'd to the top, anon crusht under∣neath the Wheel, and so secure of nothing but misery.

Mors ipsa beatior inde est•• Quod per crutia mina Lethi Via panditur ardua Iustis, Et ad astra doloribus Itur.