A buckler against the fear of death; or, Pious and profitable observations, meditations, and consolations: by E.B.

Sect. 2. Honours cannot protect us from the stroke of Death.

OF honours all that can be said doth meet In Kings and Princes; glory, majesty, Command, and titles: yet their sacred feet Trudge to the grave-ward. Power, Royaltie, A Kingdome, Crown, and Sceptre cannot be Protections against mortalitie.

Princes are Gods on earth; yet sure they must, As well as meaner men, be sick and die: Their Royall bodies shall be chang'd to dust: No crown below is worn eternally. Of all those Kings which in Gods book we reade One died, and another reign'd in's stead.

If good and loyall subjects had their wish, A gracious Prince should never see the grave; Nor should his Royall corps be made a dish For worms: but pious wishes will not save A King from dust. As other mens, his breath Is in his nostrils: Crowns must bow to Death.

Sure, were it not a kind of petty treason To wish his Majesty so long without A crown of glory, I should think it reason To pray his lamp of life might ne'r go out. Though not in's self, yet, Lord, grant he may be Immortall in a blessed progenie.

Meditation 1.

MOngst us an humble great one is a wonder Rarer by ods then is a winters thunder. Great men and good each other seldome kisse: Pride to preserment's married. O! there is Not a thought within their brain Of a grave, nor yet of seeing Death; nor do they dream of being Changed into dust again.

Consider, Sir, though you have been a taster Of Princes favours, mounted all degrees Of honour; have been called, Lord, and Master; Though your approch h••th bow'd as many knees As once mighty Hamans: yet Is it not Eternity That you hold your greatnesse by. Death and you must one day meet.

As I remember, I have read a story, That one in Embassy sent from the King Of Persia to Rome, was shew'd the glory Of that proud citie: every famous thing That was by the Romanes thought To expresse the great and mighty Prowesse of their glorious city, Thither was the Persian brought.

There he beheld such glorious structures, rais'd To dare the skies, that outwent all examples; Where art and cost workman and founder prais'd: Baths, Theatres, Tombs, Monuments, and Temples, Statues that would wonder-strike Any mortall man that should Once behold them; neither could All the world shew the like.

After this view Romes mighty Emperour, Longing for praises, in the Persian tongue Demanded of this strange Embassadour What he now thought of Rome. I should do wrong To your sacred Majesty, Thus th' Ambassadour reply'd, And this glorious place beside, If I should not magnifie

Both you and it. But one thing I dislike In Rome it self: I see that Death doth reigne As well here as in Persia, and doth strike The greatest down, and when he please doth chain People, Senatours and Kings In cold fetters made of dust: Even noble Romanes must Feel what putrefaction brings.

Your Emperours th••mselves 〈◊〉〈◊〉had their turn•• In fun'rall piles. These ••ombs can testify The Caesars mo••tall. In these sacred urns What lies but royall dust? Mortality Happens here: and I know no man B••t ••ath p••wer to hold his breath As 〈◊〉〈◊〉, and is free from Death As much as the noblest Romane.

Look we a little on this land of ours: Here's plenty, peace and every oth••r blessing. Into her bosome God in plenteous 〈◊〉〈◊〉; Rains kindnesses that are beyond expressing. Sure we of this kingdome may Justly our Creatour praise For a share in happier dayes Then Rome did at best enjoy.

Ours is a land of barly and of wh••at▪ Our stones are iron, and our ••ills yield brasse. A land wherein th' inhabitants do eat Bread without 〈◊〉〈◊〉; here our blessings passe All enumeration: What God severally bestows Upon others joyntly flows From his bounty to this nation.

Yet here men die too: not the russet Clowns, And Peasants onely that do hold the ••low, And Shepherds that sit piping on the downs, And milk-maids that do court'sie to a co••; But those noble men that have Titles, lordships, farms and mannours, And a great book full of honours: These go down into the grave.

See you not yonder super-stately palace? Three generations since that house was builded. A great man did it for his Lordships solace In summer-time; but dying up he yielded To his heir this stately pile: This heir left it to his brother; He dy'd too: and then another Swagger'd there a little while.

And he that had it last is now remov'd A story lower down into the dust. Those swelling titles which were so belov'd; That great estate in which the man did trust; Troups of gallants that did give Their attendance; all that treasure Waiting on his Lordships pleasure Could not keep the man alive.

Mark yonder marble-tomb: beneath it hath This man a lodging. All those lines you see On this side are a praising Epitaph, And on the other side his titles be. Of this fabrick if we might One piece from another sunder, And behold what lyeth under, 'T would be scarce so fair a sight.

Great ones, remember that there is a place Which poore men call a death-bed, and a time Of parting hence; you walk a nimble pace To earth-ward every houre. Here though you climb Up to Honour's highest round, Drink a cup full to the brim Of the world, in pleasures swim, Death will lay you under ground.

Meditation 2.

VVHose heart so adamantine but would weep Sad crimson drops to think upon some risers? Lord, what a wicked shuffling they do keep To lift themselves! Some-have been sacrificers Of their fathers, brothers, friends, Kinsfolk, children, and have stood Wetshod every step in bloud, To attein their lofty ends.

Of martyrs what a lamentable heap Did Herod make for fear to loose his crown! A mother would have sold a cradle cheap To buy a coffin or a mourning gown. This fell Tyrants rage appears Running down each Parents face: His wrath left in every place Childlesse mothers dro••n'd in tears.

And Absolom, that miracle of beauty, So eagerly did long to be a King, That he could soon unlearn his filiall duty, And by a strange rebellion fain would bring The thrice-venerable head Of his aged father down To the grave without a crown, And he triumph in his stead.

Abimelech, so strong was his ambition, A bloudie bargain made with certain men Of Belial, and to hinder competition Did sacrifice at once threescore and ten Of his brothers on a stone: With so soul and deep a guilt So much harmlesse bloud is spilt, That himself may reigne alone.

Of that inhumane hell-bred tragedie By Athaliah on the royall seed, The motive was desire of majestie, And that her own arms might the better speed. Our third Richard goes for one Of those butchers who think good To cement their crowns with bloud, And by murders reach a throne.

The great Tu••ks absolute prerogative, Which in securitie his crown mainteins, Is not to suffer one of them to live That hath a drop of royall bloud in's veins: When he's crown'd there's nothing lacking That may to the safetie tend Of this Monarch, but to send The ghosts of his kinsmen packing.

If I at leisure were to write a storie Of such black deeds as these at large, I could Tell you of numbers who to purchase glorie, Honours and high rooms in the world, have sold (And this policie they call) A good conscience, dearer farre Then a thousand kingdomes are, And to boot their God and all.

And yet when all is done, there dwells a God above, A God that's greater then the greatest are, Who can and will send Death for to remove The greatest hence, and bring them to the barre: Where must stand both small and great, To have sentence e'r they go Of eternall blisse or wo At Gods dreadfull judgement-seat.

When you are seated highest let your carriage Be full of pietie: you do an act Worthy your greatnesse if you make a marriage 'Twixt it and goodnesse, if you do contract Honours unto holynesse. Ever give the Lord his due Honour who hath honoured you: Then will Death affright the lesse.

Affright the lesse? 't will not affright at all. The errand's welcome when a charge is giv'n To that grim pursuivant that he must call Your honours hence unto a court in heav'n. To be great is not the thing That can dying-comforts yield: Goodnesse onely is the field Whence all soul-refreshings spring.

Meditation 3.

IF ever it should please God and the King (Which I do not desire) to give me honours; Yet never should my best preferments bring Vices to boot: they should not change my manners. Many a man hath been good Unpreferr'd, and not a slave To his lusts; yet honours have Put him in another mood.

Of Saul we heare no evil whilst he stood Endow'd with nothing but a private fortune: And afterward we heare as little good Of Saul a King: His honours did importune His bad nature to produce Such fruits as were too unfit For a King, and to commit Sinnes that were beyond excuse.

As long as man is limited within The bounds of humble, base and mean estate, He seems to make some conscience of a sinne, And one that would be good at any rate: But no wickednesse he spares When (by chance) the man is mounted And 'mongst great ones is accounted; Then the man himself declares.

Then his depraved nature with loose rains Runnes uncontrolledly into the mire Of all impietie; no sinne remains Unacted by him: doth he but desire To be wicked, vain or idle, Any lust to satisfie, That lust he will gratifie: His affections wear no bridle.

I'll never be deboist although my seat Of glory in the world be ne'r so high: I will not therefore sinne because I'm great; For if I greater were, yet I must die, And must at Gods bench appear, Where my sentence shall be given To receive a hell or heaven, As my doings have been here.