The history of Scotland from the year 1423 until the year 1542 containing the lives and reigns of James the I, the II, the III, the IV, the V : with several memorials of state during the reigns of James VI and Charles I : illustrated with their effigies in copper plates. / by William Drummond of Hauthornden ; with a prefatory introduction taken out of the records of that nation by Mr. Hall of Grays-Inn.

A CYPRESSE GROVE.

THough it hath been doubted if there be in the soul such impe∣rious and super-excellent pow∣er, as that it can by the vehe∣ment and earnest working of it, deliver knowledge to ano∣ther without bodily Organs and by the only conceptions and Ideas of it produce real Effects; yet it hath been ever, and of all held as infallible and most certain, that it often (either by outward inspiration, or some secret motion in it self) is augur of its own misfortunes, and hath shadows of approaching dangers presented unto it before they fall forth. Hence so many strange ap∣paritions and signs, true visions, uncouth heaviness, and causeless uncomfortable languishings, of which to seek a reason, unless from the sparkling of God in the Soul, or from the Godlike sparkles of the Soul, were to make unreasonable by reasoning of things transcending her reach.

Having often and diverse times, when I had gi∣ven my self to rest in the quiet solitariness of the Night, found my imagination troubled with a con∣fused

fear, no, sorrow or horrour, which interrupt∣ing sleep, did astonish my senses, and rowse me all appalled, and transported in a sudden agony and amazedness; of such an unaccustomed perturbation, not knowing, nor being able to dive into any appa∣rent cause, carried away with the stream of my then doubting thoughts, I began to ascribe it to that secret fore-knowledge and presaging power of the prophetick mind, and to interpret such an Agony to be to the Spirit as a faintness and universal weariness useth to be to the body, a sign of following sickness, or as winter Lightnings or Earth-quakes are to Com∣monwealths and great Cities, Harbingers of more wretched events.

Hereupon not thinking it strange if whatsoever is human should befall me, knowing how providence overcomes grief, and discountenances Crosses; and that as we should not despair of evils which may happen us, we should not be too confident, nor lean much to those Goods we enjoy; I began to turn over in my remembrance all that could afflict miserable Mortality, and to fore-cast every thing that with a Mask of horror should shew it self to human eyes: till in the end, as by unities and points, Mathematicians are brought to great numbers, and huge greatness; after many fantastical glaunces of the woes of mankind, and those incumbrances which follow upon life, I was brought to think, and with amazement, on the last of human terrours, or (as one termed it) the last of all dreadful and terrible Evils, Death.

For to easie censure it would appear, that the Soul, if it fore-see that divorcement which it is to have from the body, should not without great rea∣son be thus over-grieved, and plunged in inconso∣lable and unaccustom'd sorrow: considering their

near union, long familiarity and love, with the great change, pain, ugliness, which are apprehended to be the inseparable attendants of Death.

They had their being together, parts they are of one reasonable Creature, the harming of the one, is the weakning of the working of the other; what sweet contentments doth the soul enjoy by the sen∣ses? They are the Gates and Windows of its know∣ledge, the Organs of its delight. If it be tedious to an excellent player on the Lute, to abide but a few months the want of one, how much more the being without such noble Tools and Engines be plaintful to the Soul? And if two Pilgrims which have wan∣dred some few miles together, have a hearts-grief when they are near to part, what must the sorrow be at the parting of two so loving Friends and ne∣ver-loathing Lovers, as are the Body and Soul?

Death is the violent estranger of acquaintance, the eternal Divorcer of Marriage, the Ravisher of the Children from the Parents, the Stealer of Pa∣rents from their Children, the interrer of Fame, the sole cause of forgetfulness, by which the living talk of those gone away as of so many Shadows or age∣worn Stories: all strength by it is enfeebled, Beauty turned into deformity and rottenness, honour in con∣tempt, Glory into baseness. It is the reasonless breaker off of all Actions, by which we enjoy no more the sweet pleasures of Earth, nor gaze upon the stately revolutions of the Heavens, Sun perpetually setteth, Stars never rise unto us, It in one moment robbeth us of what with so great toil and care in many years we have heaped together: By this are Successions of Linages cut short, Kingdoms left Heirless, and greatest States orphaned: it is not overcome by Pride, smothered by Flattery, diverted by time, Wisdom save this, can prevent and help every thing.

By death we are exiled from this fair City of the World, it is no more a World unto us, nor we no more a People unto it. The ruines of Phanes, Pa∣laces, and other magnificent Frames, yield a sad prospect to the soul, and how should it without hor∣rour view the wrack of such a wonderful Master∣piece, as is the body?

That death naturally is terrible and to be abhor∣red, it can not well and altogether be denied, it be∣ing a privation of life, and a not-being, and every privation being abhorred of nature, and evil in it self, the fear of it too being ingenerate universally in all Creatures; yet I have often thought that even naturally to a mind by only nature resolved and prepared, it is more terrible in conceit than in verity, and at the first Glance, than when well pried into, and that rather by the weakness of our fan∣tasie, than by what is in it, and that the marble colours, of Obsequies, Weeping, and funeral pomp (which we our selves cast over) did add much more ghastliness unto it than otherways it hath. To aver which conclusion, when I had gathered my wan∣dring thoughts, I began thus with my self.

If on the great Theatre of this Earth amongst the numberless number of men, To dye were only proper to thee and thine, then undoubtedly thou hadst reason to repine at so severe and partial a Law? But since it is necessity, from the which never an age by∣past hath been exempted, and unto which they which be, and so many as are to come, are thralled (no consequent of life being more common and fa∣miliar) why shouldst thou with unprofitable and nought availing stubbornness, oppose to so unevi∣table and necessary a Condition? This is the high∣way of Mortality, our general home, behold what millions have trod it before thee, what multitudes

shall after thee, with them which at that same instant run. In so universal a calamity (if death be one) private complaints cannot be heard, with so many Royal Palaces, it is no loss to see thy poor Cabin burn. Shall the heavens stay their ever-rolling wheels (for what is the motion of them but the mo∣tion of a swift and ever whirling wheel, which twineth forth, and again uprolleth our life?) and hold still time, to prolong thy miserable days, as if the highest of their working were to do homage un∣to thee? Thy death is a piece of the Order of this All, a part of the Life of this World, for while the World is the World, some Creatures must dye, and others take life. Eternal things are raised far above this Sphere of a Generation and Corruption, where the first Matter, like an ever-flowing and ebbing Sea, with divers Waves, but the same Water, keep∣eth a restless and never tyring Current; what is be∣low, in the universality of the kind, not in it self doth abide, Man a long line of years hath continu∣ed, This Man every hundred is swept away. This Globe environed with air, is the sole Region of death, the Grave where every thing that taketh life must rot, the Stage of Fortune and Change, only glorious in the unconstancy and varying alte∣rations of it, which though many, seem yet to abide one, and being a certain entire one, are ever ma∣ny. The never agreeing bodies of the Elemental Brethren turn one in another, the Earth changeth her countenance with the seasons, sometimes looking cold, and naked, other times hot and flowry: Nay, I cannot tell how, but even the lowest of those Ce∣lestial bodies, that mother of months, and Empress of Seas and moisture, as if she were a Mirrour of of our constant mutability appeareth (by her too great nearness unto us) to participate of our changes,

never seeing us twice with that same face, now look∣ing black, then pale and wan, sometimes again in the perfection and fulness of her beauty shining over us. Death no less than life doth here act a part, the taking away of what is old, being the making a way for what is young. They which forewent us did leave a Room for us, and should we grieve to do the same to those which should come after us? Who being suffered to see the exquisite rarities of an An∣tiquaries Cabinet is grieved that the curtain be drawn, and to give place to new pilgrims? And when the Lord of this Universe hath shewed us the amazing wonders of his various frame, should we take it to heart, when he thinketh time, to dislodge? This is his unalterable and unevitable Decree, as we had no part of our will in our entrance into this life, we should not presume of any in our leaving it, but so∣berly learn to will that which he wills, whose very will giveth being to all that it wills, and reveren∣cing the Orderer, not repine at the Order and Laws, which all-where and always are so perfectly establish∣ed, that who would essay to correct and amend any of them, should either make them worse, or desire things beyond the level of possibility.

If thou doest complain that there shall be a time in the which thou shalt not be, why doest thou not too grieve that there was a time in the which thou wast not? And so that thou art not as old as that enlifening Planet of time? For not to have been a thousand years before this moment, is as much to be deplored as not to live a thousand after it, the effect of them both being one: that will be after us which long, long before we were, was. Our Childrens Children have that same reason to murmur that they were not young men in our days, which we have to complain that we shall not be old in theirs.

The Violets have their time, though they impurple not the winter, and the Roses keep their season though they disclose not their beauty in the Spring.

Empires, States, Kingdoms, have by the doom of the Supreme Providence, their fatal Periods, great Cities lye sadly buried in their dust, Arts and Sciences have not only their Ecclipses, but their warnings and deaths, the ghastly wonders of the world, raised by the ambition of ages are overthrown and trampled, some Lights above, not idly intitled Stars, are loosed and never more seen of us: The excellent Fabrick of this Universe it self shall one day suffer ruin, or a change like a ruin, and poor Earthlings thus to be handled complain.

But is this Life so great a good, that the loss of it should be so dear unto Man? If it be; the meanest Creatures of Nature thus be happy, for they live no lesse than he: If it be so great a felicity, how is it esteemed of Man himself at so small a rate, that for so poor gains, nay, one disgraceful word, he will not stand to lose it? What excellency is there in it, for the which he should desire it perpetual, and re∣pine to be at rest, and return to his old Grand-mother Dust? Of what moment are the labours and actions of it, that the interruption and leaving off of them should be to him distastful, and with such grudging lamentations received?

Is not the entering into Life weaknesse? The con∣tinuing sorrow? In the one here is exposed to all the injuries of the Elements, and like a condemned trespasser (as if it were a fault to come to the light) no sooner born than mancled and bound; in the other he is restlesly like a Ball tossed in the Tenis-Court of this World, when he is in the brightest Meridian of his glory, there mistereth nothing to destroy him, but to let him fall his own height, a

reflex of the Sun, a blast of wind, nay, the glance of an eye, is sufficient to undo him: How can that be any great matter, which so small instruments and slender actions are Masters of?

His body is but a mass of discording humors boiled together by the conspiring influences of Superior lights, which though agreeing for a trace of time, yet can never be made uniform, and kept in a just proportion. To what sickness is it subject unto, beyond those of the other creatures; no part of it being which is not particularly infected and afflicted by some one, nay, every part with many; so that the life of divers of the meanest creatures of nature hath with great reason, by the most wise, been pre∣ferred to the natural life of man: And we shall ra∣ther wonder how so fragil a matter should so long endure, than how so soon decay.

Are the actions of the most part of men, much differing from the exercise of the Spider; that pitch∣eth toyls and is tapist, to prey on the smaller Crea∣tures, and for the weaving of a scornful web evis∣createth it self many daies, which when with much industry finished, a tempestuous puffe of wind carri∣eth away both the work and the worker? Or are they not like the plaies of Children? Or (to hold them at their highest rate) as is a May-Game, or what is more earnest, some study at Chesse, every day we rise and lie down, apparel and disapparrel our selves, weary our bodies and refresh them, which is a circle of idle Travels, and labours (like Penelopes task) unprofitably renewed. Some time we are in a chase after a fading Beauty, now we seek to enlarge our bounds, increase our treasure, feeding poorly, to purchase what we must leave to those we never saw, or (happily) to a Fool, or a Prodigal heir: rais∣ed with the wind of Ambition, we Court that idle

name of Honour, not considering how they mount∣ed aloft in the highest ascendant of Earthly Glory, are but like tortured Ghosts wandring with golden fetters in glistering Prisons having fear and danger their unseparable executioners, in the midst of multi∣tudes rather garded than regarded; they whom opake imaginations and inward melancholy, have made weary of the world, though they have withdrawn themselves from the course of vulgar affairs, by vain contemplations, curious searches, are more disquieted, and live a life worse than others their wit being too sharp to give them a taste of their present infelicity, and to increase their woes; while they of a more shallow and simple conceit, have want of knowledge and ignorance of themselves, far a remedy and an∣tidote against all the calamities of life.

What Camelion, what Euripe, what Moon, doth change so often as man? he seemeth not the same person, in one and the same day, what pleaseth him in the morning is in the evening unto him distastful. Young he scorns his childish conceits, and wading deeper in years (for years are a Sea, into which he wadeth until he drown) he esteemeth his Youth Unconstancy, Rashnesse, Folly; Old he begins to pitty himself, plaining, because he is changed that the world is changed, like those in a Ship, which when they launch from the shore, are brought to think the shore doth flye from them. When he is freed of evil in his own estate, he grudges and vexes himself at the happiness and fortunes of others, he s pressed with care for what is present, with sorrow for what is past, with fear for what is to come, nay, for what will never come, as in the eye one tear for∣ceth out another, so makes he one sorrow follow upon a former, and every day lay up stuff of grief for the next.

The Air, the Sea, the Fire, the Beasts, be cruel

executioners of man, yet Beasts, Fire, Sea and Air, are pittyful to man in comparison of man, for more men are destroyed by men, than by them all. What scorns, wrongs, contumelies, imprisonments, tor∣ments, poysons, receiveth man of man? What engines and new works of death are found forth by man against man? What Laws to thrall his liberty? Fan∣tasies and scarbugs, to inveigle his reason? Amongst the Beasts is there any that hath so servile a lot in anothers behalf as Man? Yet neither is content, nor he who reigneth nor he who serveth.

The half of our life is spent in Sleep, which hath such a resemblance to death, and often it separates as it were the Soul from the body, and teacheth it a sort of being above it, making it soar beyond the Sphear of sensual delights, and attain Knowledge unto which while the body did awake it could scarce aspire. And who would not, rather than abide chained in his loathsom galey of the world sleep ever, (that is dye) having all things to one Stay be free from those vexations, misadventers, contempts, indignities, and many anguishes, unto which, this life is invasseled and subdued? and when looking unto our greatest contentment and happiness here, seemeth rather to consist in the being released from misery, than in enjoying of any great good.

What have the most eminent of mortals to glory in? Is it Greatness? Who can be great on so small a round as is this Earth, and bounded with so short a course of time? How like is that to Castles or imagi∣nary Cities raised in the Sky by Chance-meeting Clouds? Or to Gyants modelled (for a sport) of Snow, which at the hoter looks of the Sun melt away, and ly drowned in their own moisture? Such an impe∣tuous vicissitude towseth the estates of this World.

Is it knowledge? But we have not yet attained to a perfect understanding of the smallest Flower, and why the Grass should rather be green than red. The Element of Fire is quite put out, the Air is but water rarified, the Earth moveth, and is no more the Center of the Universe, is turned into a Magnes; Stars are not fixed, but swim in the Ethe∣real spaces, Comets are mounted above the Planets, some affirm there is another World of Men and Creatures, with Cities and Towers in the Moon, the Sun is lost, for it is but a cleft in the lower Heavens, through which the light, of the highest shines. Thus Sciences by the diverse motions of this Globe of the brain of man are become Opini∣ons. What is all we know, compared with what we know not? We have not yet agreed about the chief good and felicity. It is (perhaps) Artifi∣cial Cunning, how many curiosities be framed by the least Creatures of Nature, unto which the in∣dustry of the most curious Artizans doth not attain? Is it Riches? What are they but the casting out of Friends, the Snares of Liberty, Bands to such as have them, possessing rather, than possest, metals which nature hath hid (fore-seeing the great harm they should occasion) and the only opinion of man hath brought in estimation? Like Thorns which laid on an open hand, may be blown away, and on a closing and hard gripping, wound it, Prodigals mispend them, wretches miskeep them: when we have gathered the greatest abundance, we our selves can enjoy no more thereof, than so much as belongs to one man: what great and rich men do by others, the meaner sort do themselves. Will some talk of our pleasures? It is not (though in the fables) told out of purpose, that pleasure in hast being called up to Heaven, did here forget her apparel, which Sor∣row

thereafter finding (to deceive the World) at∣tired her self with: And if we should say the truth of most of our Joys, we must confess they are but disguised sorrows; the drams of their Honey are sowred in pounds of Gall, remorse ever ensueth them, nay in some they have no effect at all if some weakning grief hath not preceded and forewent them. Will some Ladies vaunt of their beauty? That is but skin-deep, of two senses only known, short even of Marble Statues and Pictures, not the same to all eyes, dangerous to the Beholder, and hurtful to the Possessor, an enemy to Chastity, a thing made to delight others, more than those which have it, a superficial lustre hiding bones and the brains, things fearful to be looked upon, growth in years doth blast it, or sickness, or sorrow pre∣venting them. Our strength matched with that of the unreasonable Creatures, is but weakness: all we can set our eyes on, in these intricate mazes of life, is but vain perspective and deceiving shadows, appearing far otherwise afar off, than when enjoyed and gazed upon in a near distance.

If death be good, why should it be feared? And if it be the work of nature, how should it not be good? For nature is an Ordinance and Rule, which God hath established in the creating this Universe (as is the Law of a King) which cannot err. Sith in him there is no impotency and weakness, by the which he might bring forth what is unperfect, no perverseness of will, of which might proceed any vicious action, no ignorance by the which he might go wrong in working, being most powerful, most good, most wise, nay, all-wise, all-good, all-power∣ful; He is the first Orderer, and marshalleth every other Order, the highest Essence, giving essence to all other things, of all causes the cause, he work∣eth

powerfully, bounteously, wisely, and maketh (his Artificial Organ) nature do the same. How is not death of Nature? Sith what is naturally ge∣nerate, is subject to corruption, and such an har∣mony (which is life) rising from the mixture of the four Elements, which are the Ingredients of our Body, cannot ever endure; the contrariety of their qualities (as a consuming Rust in the baser Metals) being an inward cause of a necessary dissolution. Again, how is not death good? Sith it is the thaw of all those vanities which the frost of Life bindeth together. If there be a satiety in Life, then must there be a sweetness in Death? The Earth were not ample enough to contain her off-spring if none died: in two or three Ages (without death) what an unpleasant and lamentable Spectacle, were the most flourishing Cities? For what should there be to be seen in them, save bodies languishing and courbing again into the Earth? pale disfigured faces, Skele∣tons instead of men? And what to be heard, but the exclamations of the young, complaints of the old, with the pittiful cries of sick and pining Persons? There is almost no infirmity worse than age.

If there be any evil in death; it would appear to be that pain and torment, which we apprehend to arise from the breaking of those strait bands which keep the Soul and Body together; which, sith not without great stuggling and motion, seems to prove it self vehement and most extream. The senses are the only cause of pain, but before the last Trances of Death, they are so brought under that they have no (or very little) strength, and their strength lessening, the strength of pain too must be lessened. How should we doubt, but the weakness of sense lesseneth pain, sith we know that weakned and maimed parts that receive not nourishment, are

a great deal less sensible, than the other parts of the body; And see that old decrepit persons leave this World almost without pain, as in a sleep? If bo∣dies of the most sound and wholsom constitution be these which most vehemently feel pain? It must then follow, that they of a distemperate and crasie constitution, have least feeling of pain, and by this reason all weak and sick bodies should not much feel pain, for if they were not distempered and evil complexioned, they would not be sick. That the Sight, Hearing, Taste, Smelling leave us without pain, and unawares, we are undoubtedly assured, and why should we not think the same of the Feel∣ing? That which is capable of feeling, are the vital Spirits, which in a man in a perfect health are spread and extended through the whole body, and hence is it that the whole Body is capable of pain; but in dy∣ing bodies we see that by pauses and degrees the parts which are furthest removed from the heart, become cold, and being deprived of natural heat, all the pain which they feel, is that they do feel no pain. Now, even as before the sick are aware, the vital spirits have withdrawn themselves from the whole extention of the body, to succour the heart (like distressed Citizens which finding their walls battered down, fly to the defence of their Cittadel) so do they abandon the heart without any sensible touch: As the flame, the oyl failing, leaveth the wick, or as light the Air, which it doth invest. As to the shrinking motions, and convulsions of sinews and members, which appear to witness great pain, let one represent to himself the strings of an high tuned Lute, which breaking, retire to their natural wind∣ings, or a piece of Ice that without any outward violence cracketh at a Thaw: No otherwise do the finews of the body; finding themselves slack and

unbended from the brain, and their wonted labours and motions cease, struggle, and seem to stir them∣selves, but without either pain or sense. Swooning is a true Pourtrait of Death, or rather it is the same, being a cessation from all action, and function of sense and life: but in Swooning there is no pain, but a silent rest, and so deep and sound a sleep, that the natural is nothing in comparison of it; what great pain then can there be in death, which is but a con∣tinual Swooning, and a never again returning to the works and dolorous felicity of life?

Now although death were an extream pain, sith it is in an instant, what can it be? Why should we fear it? For while we are, it cometh not, and it being come we are no more. Nay, though it were most painful, long continuing, and terrible, ugly why should we fear it? Sith fear is a foolish passion but where it may preserve; but it cannot preserve us from Death, yea, rather the fear of it, banishing the comforts of present contentments, makes death to advance and approach the more near unto us. That is ever terrible which is unknown, so do little Children fear to go in the dark, and their fear is increased with tales.

But that perhaps which anguisheth thee most, is to have this glorious pageant of the World, remo∣ved from thee, in the Spring and most delicious sea∣son of thy life, for though to dye be usual, to dye young may appear extraordinary. If the present fruition of these things be unprofitable and vain, what can a long continuance or them be? Stranger and new Halcyon, why wouldst thou longer nestle amidst these unconstant and stormy Waves? Hast thou not already suffered enough of this World, but thou must yet endure more? To live long, is it not to be long troubled? But number thy years

which are now _____ _____ and thou shalt find, that whereas ten have overlived thee, thousands have not attained this age. One year is sufficient to behold all the magnificence of Nature, nay, even one day and night for more is but the same brought again. This Sun, that Moon, these Stars, the varying dance of the Spring, Summer, Autumn, Winter, is that very same which the golden age did see. They which have the longest time lent them to live in, have almost no part of it at all, measuring it either by the space of time which is past, when they were not, or by that which is to come: why shouldst thou then care, whether thy days be many of few, which when prolonged to the uttermost, prove, pa∣rallel'd with Eternity, as a Tear is to the Ocean? To dye young, is to do that soon, and in some fewer days, which once thou must do; it is the giving over of a Game that after never so many hazards, must be lost. When thou hast lived to that age thou desirest, or one of Plato's years, so soon as the last of thy days riseth above thy Horizon, thou wilt then as now, demand longer respit, and expect more to come. It is Hope of long life, that maketh life seem short. Who will behold, and with the eye of advice behold the many changes attending on human affairs, with the after-claps of Fortune, shall never lament to dye young. Who knows what alterations and sudden disasters, in outward estate or inward contentments, in this wilderness of the World, might have befallen him who dieth young, if he had lived to be old? Heaven fore-knowing imminent harms, taketh those which it loves to it self before they fall forth. Pure and (if we may so say) Vir∣gin Souls, carry their bodies with no small agonies, and delight not to remain long in the dregs of human corruption, still burning with a desire to turn back

to the place of their rest, for this World is their Inn, and not their Home. That which may fall forth every hour, cannot fall out of time. Life is a Journey in a dusty way, the furthest Rest is Death, in this some go more heavily burdened than others: swift and active Pilgrims come to the end of it in the Morning or at Noon, which Tortoise-paced Wret∣ches, clogged with the fragmentary rubbidge of this World, scarce with great travel crawl unto at Mid∣night. Days are not to be esteemed after the num∣ber of them, but after the goodness: more compass maketh not a Sphear move compleat, but as round is a little as a large Ring; nor is that Musitian most praise-worthy who hath longest played, but he in measured accents who hath made sweetest melody, to live long hath often been a let to live well. Muse not how many years thou mightest have enjoyed life, but how sooner thou mightest have lossed it, neither grudge so much that it is no better, as comfort thy self that it hath been no worse: let it suffice that thou hast lived till this day, and (after the course of this World) not for nought, thou hast had some smiles of fortune, favours of the worthiest, some friends and thou hast never been disfavoured of the Heaven.

Though not for life it self, yet that to after-worlds thou mightest leave some monument that once thou wast, happily in the clear light of Reason, it would appear that life were earnestly to be desired: for sith it is denied us to live ever (said one) let us leave some worthy Remembrance of our once here being, and draw out this Span of life to the greatest length, and so far as is possible. O poor ambition! To what I pray thee mayest thou concreded it? Arches and stately Temples, which one age doth raise, doth not another raze, Tombs and adopted Pillars, lye buried with those which were in them bu∣ried:

Hath not Avarice defaced, what Religion did make glorious? All that the hand of man can up∣rear, is either overturned by the hand of man, or at length by standing and continuing consumed, as if there were a secret opposition in fate, the unevi∣table decree of the Eternal, to controul our industry, and conter-check all our devices and proposing. Possessions are not enduring, Children lose their names, Families glorying (like Marigolds in the Sun) on the highest top of Wealth and Honour (no better than they which are not yet born) leaving off to be; So doth Heaven confound what we en∣deavour by labour and art to distinguish. That renown by Papers, which is thought to make men immortal, and which nearest doth approach the life of these eternal bodies above, how slender it is, the very word of Paper doth import, and what is it when obtained, but a multitude of words, which coming Times may scorn. How many millions never hear the names of the most famous Writers, and amongst them to whom they are known, how few turn over their pages, and of such as do, how many sport at their conceits, taking the verity for a fable, and oft a fable for verity, or (as we do pleasants) use all for recreation? Then the arising or more famous, doth darken, and turn ignoble the glory of the for∣mer, being held as garments worn out of fashion. Now, when thou hast attained what praise thou couldst desire, and thy fame is emblazon'd in many Stories, it is but an Eccho, a meer Sound, a Glow-worm, which seen afar, casteth some cold beams, but approached is found nothing, an imaginary hap∣piness, whose good depends on the opinion of o∣thers: Desert and Virtue for the most part want Monuments and Memory, seldom are recorded in the Volumes of admiration, while Statues and Tro∣phies,

are erected to those, whose names should have been buried in their dust, and folded up in the dark∣est clouds of oblivion: So do the rank Weeds in this Garden of the World choak and over-run the sweet∣est Flowers. Applause whilst thou livest, serveth but to make thee that fair mark against which Envy and Malice direct their Arrows, at best is like that Sy∣racusians Sphear of Chrystal, as frail as fair: and born after thy death, it may as well be ascribed, to some of those were in the Trojan Horse, or to such as are yet to be born an hundred years here∣after, as to thee, who nothing knows, and is of all unknown. What can it avail thee to be talked of, whilst thou art not? Consider in what bounds our fame is confined, how narrow the lists are of hu∣man Glory, and the furthest she can stretch her wings. This Globe of the Earth which seemeth huge to us, in respect of the Universe, and com∣pared with that wide pavilion of Heaven, is less than little, of no sensible quantity, and but as a point: for the Horizon which boundeth our sight, divideth the Heaven as in two halfs, having always six of the Zodiack signs above, and as many under it, which if the Earth had any quantity compared to it, it could not do. More, if the Earth were not as a point, the Stars could not still in all parts of it appear to us of a like greatness; for where the 〈◊〉〈◊〉 raised it self in Mountains, we being more 〈◊〉〈◊〉 to Heaven, they would appear to us of a greater quan∣tity; and where it is humbled in Vallies, we being further distant they would seem unto us less; But the Stars in all parts of the Earth appearing of a like greatness, and to every part of it the Heaven im∣parting to our sight the half of its inside, we must avouch it to be but as a point. Well did one com∣pare it to an Ant-hill, and men (the Inhabitants)

to so many Pismires and Grashoppers, in the toil and variety of their diversifyed studies. Now of this small indivisible thing, thus compared, how much is covered with Waters? How much not at all dis∣covered? How much unhabited and desart? And how many millions of millions are they, which share the Remnant amongst them, in Languages, Cu∣stoms, Divine Rites differing, and all almost to others unknown? But let it be granted that glory and Fame are some great matter, and can reach Heaven it self, sith they are oft buried with the ho∣noured, and pass away in so fleet a revolution of time, what great good can they have in them? How is not glory Temporal, if it increase with years and depend on time? Then imagine me (for what cannot imagination reach unto?) One could be famous in all times to come, and over the whole World present, yet shall he ever be obscure and ig∣noble to those mighty Ones, which were only here∣tofore esteemed famous amongst the Assyrians, Per∣sians, Romans. Again the vain affectation of man is so suppressed, that though his Works abide some space, the Worker is unknown: the huge Egyptian Pyramides, and that Grot in Pausilipo, though they have wrestled with time, and worn upon the waste of Days, yet are their Authors no more known, than it is known by what strange Earth-quakes, and Deluges, Isles were divided from the Continent; or Hills bursted forth of the Valleys. Days, Months, and Years are swallowed up in the great gulf of time (which puts out the eyes of all their glory) and only a fatal oblivion remains; of so many ages past, we may well figure to our selves likely appa∣rences, but can affirm little certainty.

But (my soul) what ailes the to be thus back∣ward and astonished at the remembrance of Death

sith it doth not reach thee, more than darknesse doth those far-shining Lamps above? Rowse thy self for shame; why shouldst thou fear to be with∣out a body, sith thy maker and the spiritual and super-celestial Inhabitants have no bodies? Hast thou ever seen any Prisoner, who when the Jail Gates were broken up, and he enfranchised and set loose, would rather plain and sit still on his Fetters, than seek his freedom? Or any Mariner, who in the midst of Storms arriving near the Shore, would launch fourth again into the Main, rather than strike Sail and joyfully enter the leas of a safe Harbour? If thou rightly know thy self, thou hast but small cause of anguish; for if there be any resemblance, of by that which is infinite, in what is finite (which yet by an infinit imperfection is from it distant) if thou be not an Image, thou art a shadow of that unsearchable Trinity, in thy three essential Powers, Understand∣ing, Will, Memory; which though three, are in thee but one, and abiding one, are distinctly three: But in nothing more comest thou near that Soveraign Good, than by thy perpetuity, which who strive to improve, by that same do it prove: Like those that by arguing themselves to be without reason, by the very arguing, shew how they have some. For, who can what is wholly mortal, more known what is im∣mortal, than the eye can know sounds, or the ear question about colours; if one had eyes, who would ever descant of light or Sorrow? To thee nothing in this visible World is comparable; thou art so woun∣derful a beauty and so beautiful a wonder, that if but once thou couldst be gazed upon by bodily eyes, every heart would be inflamed with thy love, and ravished from all servile basenesse and earthly desires. Thy being depends not on matter, hence by thine understanding, doest thou dive into the being of

every other thing; and therein art so pregnant, that nothing by place, similitude, subject, time, is so conjoined, which thou canst not seperate; as what neither is, nor any ways can exist, thou canst fain, and give an abstract being unto. Thou seemest a World in thy self, containing Heaven, Starres, Seas, Earth, Floods, Mountains, Forests, and all that liveth: yet rest thou not satiate with what is in thy self, nor with all in the wide Universe, until thou raise thy self, to the contemplation of that first illuminat∣ing Intelligence, far above time, and even reaching Eternity it self, into which thou art transformed, for by receiving, thou (beyond all other things) art made that which thou receivest. The more thou knowest, the more apt thou art to know, not being amated with any object that excelleth in predominance, as sense by objects sensible Thy Will is uncompellable, resist∣ing force, daunting Necessity, despising Danger, triumphing over affliction, unmoved by pitty, and not constrained by all the toyls and disasters of life. What the Arts-master of this Universe is in govern∣ing this Universe, thou art in the body; and as he is wholly in every part of it, so art thou wholly in every part of the body. By thee man is that Hymen of eternal and mortal things, that chain together binding unbodied and bodily substances, without which the goodly Fabrick of this World were unper∣fect. Thou hast not thy beginning from the fecun∣dity, power, nor action of the elemental qualities, being an immediate master piece of that great Maker. Hence hast thou the forms and figures of all things imprinted in thee from thy first Original. Thou onley at once art capable of contraries, of the three parts of time, thou makest but one. Thou knowest thy self so separate, absolute and diverse an essence from thy body, that thou dispossessed of it as it pleas∣eth

thee, for in the there is no passion so weak which mastereth not the fear of leaving it. Thou shouldst be so far from repining at this separation, that it should be the chief of thy desires, sith it is the passage and means to attain thy perfection and happiness. Thou art here but as an infected and leprous Inn, plunged in a floud of humours, oppressed with cares, suppressed with ignorance, defiled and distained with vice, retrograde in the course of virtue; small things seem here great unto thee, and great things small, folly appeareth wisedom, and wisedom folly, Freed of thy fleshly care, thou shalt rightly discern the beauty of thy self, and have perfect fruition of that all-sufficient and all-sufficing Happiness, which is GOD himself; to whom thou owest thy being, to him thou owest thy well being, he and happiness are the same. For, if GOD had not happiness, he were not GOD, because Happiness is the high∣est and greatest good: If then GOD have happi∣ness, it cannot be a thing differing from him; for if there were any thing in Him, deffering from him, he should be an essence composed and not simple, more, what is differing in any thing, is either an ac∣cident or a part of it self: In GOD Happiness can not be an accident, because he is not subject to any accidents, if it were a part of Him (since the part is before the whole) we should be forced to grant, that some thing was before God. Bedded and bathed in these earthly, ordures thou canst not come near this Soveraign Good, nor have any glimpse of the afar-off dawning of his uncessable brightness, no, not so much as the eyes of the Birds of the Night hath of the Sun. Think then by death, that thy shell is broken, and thou then but even hatched, that thou art a Pearl, raised from thy Mother to be en∣chaced in Gold, and that the death day of thy body, is thy birth day to Eternity.

Why shouldst thou be fear-stroken, and discomforted, for thy parting from this mortal Bride thy body, sith it is but for a time, and such a time, as she shall not care for, nor feel any thing in, nor thou have much need of her? Nay sith thou shalt receive her again, more goodly and beautiful, than when in her fullest perfection thou enjoyed her; being by her absence made like unto that Indian Chrystal, which after some rovolutions of ages is turned into purest Dia∣mond. If the Soul be the Form of the Body, and the form separated from the Matter of it, cannot ever so continue, but is inclined and disposed to be reunited thereinto: What can let and hinder this de∣sire, but that some time it be accomplished, and ob∣taining the expected end, rejoin it self again unto the Body? The Soul separate hath a desire, because it hath a will, and knows it shall by this re-union re∣ceive perfection: too as the matter is disposed, and inclineth to its form when it is without it, so would it seem that the Form should be towards its matter in the absence of it. How, is not the Soul the form of the body, sith by it, it is, and is the beginning and cause of all the actions and functions of it: For, though in excellency it pass every other form, yet doth not that excellency take from it the nature of a form? If the abiding of the Soul from the body be violent, then can it not be everlasting, but have a regress: How is not such an estate of being and abid∣ing not violent to the Soul, if it be natural to it, to be in matter, and (separate) after a strange manner, many of the powers and faculties, of it (which ne∣ver leave it) are not duly exercised? This Union seem∣eth not above the Horizon of natural Reason, far less impossible to be done by God, and though Rea∣son cannot evidently here demonstrate, yet hath she a misty and groping notice. If the body shall not

arise, how can the onely and Soveraign Good, be perfectly and infinitely good? For, how shall he be just, nay, have so much justice as Man, if he suffer the evil and vicious, to have a more prospe∣rous and happy life, than the followers of Religion and Virtue; which ordinarily useth to fall forth in this life? For, the most wicked are Lords and Gods of this Earth, sleeping in the lee port of honour, as if the spacious habitation of the World had been made onely for them; and the virtuous and good, are but forlorn cast-awaies: floting in the surges of distress, seeming here either of the eye of providence not pittied, or not regarded: being subject to all dishonors, wrongs, wracks, in their best estate, passing away their daies (like the Dazies in the field) in silence and contempt. Sith then he is most good, most just, of necessity there must be appointed by him another time and place of retribution, in the which there shall be a reward for living well, and a punishment for doing evil, with a life whereinto both shall receive their due, and not onely in their Soules divested, for, sith both the parts or man did act a part in the right or wrong, it carrieth great reason with it, that they both be arraigned before that high Justice, to receive their own: Man is not a Soul only, but a Soul and body, to which either guerdon or punishment is due. This seemeth to be the voice of Nature in almost all the Religions of the world; this is that general testimony, charactered in the minds of the most barbarous and savage people, all have had some roving guesses at ages to come, and a dim duskish light of another life, all appealing to one general Judgment Throne. To what else could serve so many expiations, sacrifices, prayers, solemnities, and mystical Ceremonies? To what such sumptuous Temples, and care of the Death?

To what all Religion? If not to shew that they ex∣pected a more excellent manner of being, after the navigation of this life did take an end. And who doth deny it, must deny that there is a Providence, a God, confess that his Worship, and all study and reason of virtue are vain; and not believe that there is a World, are Creatures, and that He himself is not what He is.

As those Images were Pourtraicted in my mind (the morning Star now almost arising in the East) I found my thoughts mild and quiet calm; and not long after, my senses one by one forgetting their uses, began to give themselves over to rest, leaving me in a still and peaceable sleep; if sleep it may be called, where the mind awaking is carried with free wings from out fleshly bondage? For heavy lids had not long covered their lights, when I thought, nay, sure I was where I might discern all in this great All, the large compass of the rolling Circles, the brightness and continual motion of those Rubies of the Night, (which by their distance) here below cannot be perceived; the silver countenance of the wandring Moon, shining by anothers light, the hanging of the Earth as (environed with a girdle of Chrystal) the Sun enthronized in the midst of the Planets, eye of the Heavens, Gem of this precious Ring the World. But whilst with wonder and amazement I gazed on those Celestial splendors, and the beaming Lamps of that glorious Temple, there was presented to my sight a Man, as in the Spring of his years, with that self-same grace, comely fea∣ture, Majestick look which the late ( _____ _____ ) was wont to have; on whom I had no sooner set mine eyes, when (like one Planet-stroken) I became amazed: But he with a mild demeanour, and voice surpassing all human sweetness, appeared (me thought) to say;

What is it doth thus anguish and trouble thee? Is it the remembrance of Death, the last Period of Wret∣chedness, and entry to these happy places; the Lan∣tern which lightneth men to see the mystery of the blessedness of Spirits, and that glory which trans∣cendeth the Courtain of things visible? Is thy For∣tune below on that dark Globe (which scarce by the smalness of it appeareth here) so great, that thou art heart-broken and dejected to leave it? What if thou wert to leave behind thee a ( _____ _____ ) so glorious in the eye of the World (yet but a Mote of Dust encircled with a Pond) as that of mine, so loving ( _____ _____ ) such great hopes, these had been apparent occasions of lamenting, and but apparent? Dost thou think thou leavest Life too soon? Death is best young; things fair and excellent, are not of long endurance upon Earth. Who liveth well li∣veth long. Souls most beloved of their Maker, are soonest relieved from the bleeding cares of Life, and and most swiftly wasted through the Surges of Hu∣man miseries. Opinion that Great Enchantress and poiser of things, not as they are but as they seem, hath not in any thing more, than in the con∣ceit of Death abused man: Who must not measure himself, and esteem his estate, after his earthly be∣ing, which is but as a dream: For, though he be born on the Earth, he is not born for the Earth, more than the Embryon for the Mothers Womb. It plaineth to be delivered of its bands, and to come to the light of this World; and Man waileth to be loosed from the Chains with which he is fettered in that vale of vanities. It nothing knoweth whither it is to go, nor ought of the beauty of the visible works of God, neither doth man of the magnifi∣cence of the Intellectual World above, unto which (as by a Mid-wife) he is directed by Death. Fools,

which think that this fair and admirable Frame, so variously disposed, so rightly marshalled, so strong∣ly maintained, enriched with so many excellencies, not only for necessity, but for ornament and delight, was by that Supream wisdom brought forth, that all things in a circulary course, should be and not be, arise and dissolve, and thus continue: as if they were so many Shadows cast out and caused by the encountring of these Superior Celestial bodies, changing only their fashion and shape, or Fantasti∣cal Imageries, or prints of faces into Chrystal. No, no, the Eternal Wisdom hath made man an excel∣lent creature, though he fain would unmake him∣self, and return to nothing: And though he seek his felicity among the reasonless Wights, he hath fixed it above. Look how some Prince or great King on the Earth, when he hath raised any Stately City, the work being atchieved, is wont to set his Image in the midst of it, to be admired and gazed upon: No otherwise did the Soveraign of this All, the Fabrick of it perfected, place man (a great Mi∣racle) formed to his own pattern, in the midst of this spacious and admirable City. God containeth all in him as the beginning of all; man containeth all in him as the midst of all; inferior things be in man more noble than they exist; superior things more meanly; Celestial things favour him, earthly things are vassalled unto him, he is the band of both; neither is it possible but that both of them have peace with him, who made the Covenant between them and him. He was made that he might in the Glass of the World behold the infinite Goodness, Power and glory of his Maker, and beholding know and knowing Love, and loving enjoy, and to hold the Earth of him as of his Lord Parmount; never ceasing to remember and praise Him. It ex∣ceedeth

the compass of conceit, to think that that wisdom which made every thing so orderly in the parts, should make a confusion in the whole, and the chief Master-piece; how bringing forth so ma∣ny excellencies for man, it should bring forth man for baseness and misery. And no less strange were it, that so long life should be given to Trees, Beasts, and the Birds of the Air, Creatures inferior to Man, which have less use of it, and which cannot judge of this goodly Fabrick, and that it should not be denied to Man: unless there were another manner of living prepared for him, in a place more noble and excellent.

But alas! (said I) had it not been better that for the good of his native Countrey a ( _____ _____ ) endued with so many peerless gifts, had yet lived? How long will ye (replyed he) like the Ants, think there are no fairer Palaces, than their Hills; or like to purblind Moles, no greater light, than that little which they shun? As if the Master of a Camp, knew when to remove a Sentinel, and he who plac∣eth Man on the Earth, knew not how long he had need of him? Every one cometh there to act his part of this Tragi-Comedy, called life, which done, the Courtain is drawn, and he removing is said to dye. That Providence which prescribeth Causes to every event hath not only determined a definite and certain number of days, but of actions to all men, which they cannot go beyond.

Most ( _____ _____ ) then answered I, Death is not such an evil and pain, as it is of the Vulgar esteemed? Death (said he) nor painful is, nor evil (except in contemplation of the cause) being of it self as in∣different as birth: yet can it not be denied, and amidst those dreams of earthly pleasures, the un∣couthness of it, with the wrong apprehension of

what is unknown in it, are noysom. But the Soul sustained by its Maker, resolved, and calmly re∣tired in it self, doth find that death (sith it is in a moment of Time) is but a short, nay, sweet sigh; and is not worthy the remembrance compared with the smallest dram of the infinite Felicity of this Place. Here is the Palace Royal of the Almighty King, in which the uncomprehensible comprehen∣sibly manifesteth Himself; in place highest, in sub∣stance not subject to any corruption or change, for it is above all motion, and solid turneth not; in quantity greatest, for, if one Star, one Sphere be so vast, how large, how huge in exceeding demen∣sions, must those bounds be, which do them all con∣tain? In quality most pure and orient, Heaven here is all but a Sun, or the Sun all but a Heaven. If to Earthlings the Foot-stool of God, and that Stage which he raised for a small course of Time, seemeth so glorious and magnificent; What estimation would they make, if they could see, of his eternal Habi∣tation and Throne? And if these be so wonderful, what is the sight of him, for whom and by whom all was created; of whose Glory to behold the thou∣sand thousand part, the most pure Intelligences are fully satiate, and with wonder and delight rest amazed, for the beauty of his light, and the light of his beauty are uncomprehensible? Here doth that earnest appetite of the understanding content it self, not seeking to know any more; For it seeth before it, in the vision of the Divine essence (a Mirrour in the which not Images or Shadows, but the true and perfect essence of every thing created, is more clea•• and conspicuous, than in it self) all that may be known or understood. Here doth the Will pause it self, as in the center of its eternal rest, glowing with with a fiery affection of that infinite and al-sufficient

good; which being fully known, cannot (for the infinite motives and causes of love which are in him) but be fully and perfectly loved: As he is only the true and essential Bounty, so is he the only essential and true beauty, deserving alone all Love and Admira∣tion, by which the Creatures are only in so much fair and excellent, as they participate of his Beauty and excelling Excellencies. Here is a blessed Com∣pany, every one joying as much in anothers Feli∣city, as in that which is proper, because each seeth another equally loved of God; thus their distinct joyes are no fewer, than the copartners of the Joy. And as the Assembly is in number answerable to the large capacity of the place, so are the joyes answer∣able to the numberless number of the Assembly. No poor and pittiful mortal, confined on the Globe of Earth, who have never seen but sorrow, or in∣terchangeably some painted superficial pleasures, can rightly think on, or be sufficient to conceive the termless delights of this place. So many Fea∣thers move not on Birds, so many Birds dint not the Air, so many leaves tremble not on Trees, so many Trees grow not in the solitary Forests, so many waves turn not in the Ocean, and so many grains of Sand limit not those Waves: as this triumphant Court hath variety of delights, and Joyes exempted from all comparison. Happiness at once here is fully known and fully enjoyed, and as infinite in continuance as extent. Here is flourishing and ne∣ver fading youth without Age, Strength without Weakness, Beauty never blasting, Knowledge ••••thout Learning, Abundance without Loathing, Peace without Disturbance, Participation without Envy, Rest without Labour, Light without rising or seeting Sun, Perpetuity without moments, for Time (which is the measure of Endurance) did never

enter in this shining Eternity. Ambition, Disdain, Malice, Difference of Opinions, cannot approach this place, and resembling those foggy Mists, which cover those Lists of Sublunary things. All pleasure paragon'd with what is here is pain, all Mirth mourn∣ing, all Beauty deformity. Here one daies abiding, is above the continuing in the most fortunate estate on the Earth many years, and sufficient to countervail the extreamest torments of Life. But, although this Bliss of Souls be great, and their joyes many, yet shal they admit Addition, and be more full and perfect, at that long wished and general meeting with their bodies

Amongst all the wonders of the great Creator, not one appeareth to be more wounderful (replied I) than that our Bodies should arise, having suffered so many changes, and nature denying a return from privation to a Habit.

Such power (said he) being above all that the Understanding of Man can conceive, may well work such wonders; For if Mans Understanding could comprehend all the secrets and councels of than Eter∣nal Majesty, it must of necessity be equal unto it. The Author of Nature is not thralled to the Laws of Nature, but worketh with them or contrary to them, as it pleaseth him: What he hath a will to do, he hath a power to perform. To that, power which brought all this All from nought, to bring again in one instant any substance which ever was into it, un∣to what it was once, should not be thought impossi∣ble; for who can do more can do less, and his power is no less after that which was by him brought forth is decayed and vanished, than it was before it was produced; being neither restrained to certain limits, or instruments, or to any determinate and definite manner of working; where the power is without re∣straint, the work admitteth no other limits, than the

Workers will. This world is as a Cabinet to God, in which the small things (however to us hid and secret) are nothing less kept than the great. For, as he was wise and powerful to create, so doth his knowledge comprehend his own Creation; yea every change and variety in it, of which it is the very Source. Not any Atom of the scatter'd Dust of mankind, though daily flowing under new forms, is to him unknown: and his knowledge doth dis∣tinguish and discern, what once his power shall waken and rise up. Why may not the Arts-Master of the world, like a Molder, what he hath framed in di∣vers shapes, confound in one mass, and then seve∣rally fashion them out of the same? Can the Spargirick by his Art restore for a space to the dry and withered Rose, the natural purple and blush; and cannot the Almighty raise and refine the body of man, after never so many alterations on the Earth? Reason her self finds it more possible for infinit power to cast out ftom it self a finit world, and restore any thing in it; though decaied and dissolved, to what it was first; than for man, a finit piece of reasonable misery, to change the form of matter made to his hand; the power of God never brought forth all that it can, for then were it bounded, and no more infinite. That time doth approach (O hast ye times away) in which the dead shall live, and the living be chan∣ged, and of all actions the Guerdon is at hand; then shall there be an end without an end, time shall finish, and place shall be altered, motion yielding unto rest, ••nd another world of an age eternal and unchange∣able shall arise; which when he had said (me thought) he vanished, and I all astonished did awake.