II. 'Tis then a long Sleep.
Till the Heavens be no more. A time of tedious distance for ought we know. But yet, how near so∣ever (if we reflect on those who went before us) how much soever Death resembled Sleep in quality, 'tis much beyond it in the quantity.
The grand distinction of these sleeps, consists in their duration. A Sand participates the essential proper∣ties of Earth. But ah! when their dimensions come in competition, that nature of the Earth, which the Sand possesses, is but enough to priviledge it from be∣ing nothing: So Sleep, though constituted of the calm and gentle qualities of Death, when we peruse them in their just extent, appears (in the comparison) to have but so much ease, as does but just exempt it from be∣ing labour. Here we soon sleep, and strait as quick∣ly wake. Our lives are but successive, and short fits of darkness and of light. And if the night protract itself beyond our slumbers, how restless grow we, tor∣tur'd with repose, and making our ease our anguish? But Bodies, once asleep beneath the Coverlets of Turfs, find not themselves so hasty to be stirring.
We shall remove no Curtains with our hands; nor, with our eyes, seek day-light in a Window; nor, with our vain enquiries, look for glimmerings in the East. No, no, we shall not hunt for day, till we shall miss