Page 177
XC.
MADAM,
I Am sorry the Plague is much in the City you are in, as I hear, and fear your Stay will In∣danger your Life, for the Plague is so Spread∣ing and Penetrating a Disease, as it is a Malig∣nant Contagion, and Dilates it self throughout a City, nay, many times, from City to City, all over a Kingdom, and enters into every Particu∣lar House, and doth Arrest almost every Parti∣cular Person with Death, at least, layes grievous Sores upon them; Indeed Great Plagues are Death's Harvest, where he Reaps down Lives like Ears of Corn; wherefore, Madam, let me perswade you to Remove, for certainly Life is so Pretious, as it ought not to be Ventured, where there is no Honour to be Gain'd in the Hazard, for Death seems Terrible, I am sure it doth to Me, there is nothing I Dread more than Death, I do not mean the Strokes of Death, nor the Pains, but the Oblivion in Death, I fear not Death's Dart so much as Death's Dungeon, for I could willingly part with my Present Life, to have it Redoubled in after Memory, and would willingly Die in my Self, so I might Live in my Friends; Such a Life have I with you, and you with me, our Persons being at a Distance, we live to each other no otherwise than if we were Dead, for Absence is a Present