a letter, with the touch of a thread, with the taste of a grape, death hath found an entrance.

And as though man were not miserable enough by nature, his very passions must contribute to make him wretched and unhappy; the proud man grieves and consumes for the felicity of another; the envious dies to see a happy man live; the covetous man loses his sleep for what he hath no need of; the choleric man ruins himself for what no ways concerns him with reason did the prophet say, "In vain doth man trouble himself; he troubles himself, and before he attains rest, is overwhelmed; he mounts on high like a tempest; and like dust is scattered and disappears; he is kindled like a flame, and vanishes like smoke; he spreads himself as a cloud, and is contracted as a drop." He is troubled to gain the filth of riches, and a little dirt; his are the troubles, others' the joys; his are the cares, others' the contents; his are the curses, others' the respect and reverence. The life of man is full of vain labours, of vexatious thoughts, thinking how to obtain what he desires, and then how to keep it; after how to increase it, then how to defend it; and lastly how to enjoy it; and yet, in conclusion, all falls to pieces in the handling, and becomes nothing: what labour doth it cost the poor spider to weave his web, passing incessantly from one part to another; and often returning to the same place where he began, consuming himself with the threads drawn from his proper entrails, for the forming of his pavilion; which, with many journeys, having placed on high, and at last finished this goodly artifice, one touch of a broom defaces and brings to ground all his labour? Just such are the employments of man, of much toil, and of little profit; spending the most part of his time in useless projects, which, of themselves, fall to nothing, and, in the end, vanish without effect.

In vain doth man trouble himself, for he enjoys a life but lent him, and that but for a short time; man is but a debt of death, which is to be paid without delay. I have considered with tears what man was made of, what he is, and what he shall be. He was made of earth, and conceived in sin, and born for punishment: O unhappy condition of human nature! O the vanity and delusions of man! Thou

which gloriest in the strength of body, thou which embracest the gifts of fortune, and thinkest not thyself her servant, but her darling; see how thou mightest have perished, even before thou wert, with so little a thing as a snuff of a candle; and mayest yet with a smaller matter, pricked with the little tooth of an adder; or, like Anacreon, the poet, choaked with the stone of a grape; or, like Fabius, the Roman senator, suffocated with a hair in a draught of milk. The life of man, compared to the continuance of the world, is but a moment; and the world's continuance is but a moment in respect of eternity.

With good reason then is the life of man to be valued as nothing; since nothing is more frail, nothing more perishing; and, in conclusion, is little more than if it had no being at all. Glass, without violence, may last long; but the life of man ends of itself: Glass may, with care, be preserved for many ages; but nothing can preserve the life of

man.

All this king David well understood, who was the most powerful and happy prince the Hebrews ever had; yet, when he considered that his greatness was to have an end, valued it as nothing; and not only esteemed his kingdoms and treasures as vanity, but even his life itself; wherefore he says, "Thou hast put, Lord, a measure unto my days, and my substance is as nothing." All my kingdoms, all my trophies, all my treasures, all which I possess, all is nothing: and presently adds, " doubtless all is vanity;" all which living man is, all his whole life is vanity, and nothing that belongs to him so frail as himself.

O if we could but frame a true conception of the shortness of this life, how should we despise the pleasures of it! This is a matter of such importance, that God commanded the principal of his prophets, that he should go into the streets and market-places, and proclaim aloud, that "all flesh is grass, and all the glory of it as the flowers of the field;" for as the grass, which is cut in the morning, withers before night, and as the flower is quickly faded, so is the life of all flesh, the beauty and splendor of it withering in a day: he who shall look upon the frailty of our flesh, and that every

a Psal. xxxvii.

moment of an hour we increase and decrease without ever remaining in the same state; and even what we now speak, dictate, or write, flies away with some part of our life, will not doubt to say, "his flesh is grass, and the glory of it as the flower of the field:" he that was yesterday an infant, is now a boy, and will suddenly be a youth, and even until old age runs changing through uncertain conditions of life, and perceives himself first to be an old man, before he begins to admire that he is not still a boy; nay, seeing death seizeth upon others, yet he will not believe that it shall happen to him; and although he hear of it hourly, yet it appears unto him as a hidden mystery, which he cannot understand. God, therefore, commanded his prophet Isaiah, that he should proclaim it with a loud voice, as a thing of great importance, and that it might sink into the heart of man: receive, therefore, this truth from God himself, "All flesh is grass," all age is short, all time flies, all life vanishes; and a great multitude of years are but a great nothing.

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Let us hear how true this is, from those who lived the longest, and have had the experience of what it is to live; perhaps thou mayest promise thyself to live a hundred years, as though this were a long life: hearken then unto holy Job, who lived two hundred and forty years, who knew best what it was to live; what says he of all his years? My days," saith he," are nothing;" nothing, he calls them, although they lasted almost three ages. In other places, he says the life of man is like the flower, which springs up to-day, and to-morrow is trodden under foot; and that it flies like a shadow, without ever remaining in the same state: how poor a thing then is life, since holy Job calls it but a shadow, though then three or four times longer than at present! Those who lived more than eight hundred years, esteemed their life but as a shadow; and in the instant when they died, judged they were scarce born. How can we think to live long in a time, wherein it is much to make the age of sixty years! A life then of eight hundred years being no more than the flirting up and down of a little sparrow, the flight of an arrow, or to say better, the passage of a shadow: what then are fifty years, unto which, perhaps, thou mayest attain? certainly the longest term whereunto human life extends, was compared by Homer, but unto the leaves of the

Euri

tree, which, at most, endure but a summer's season. pides judged that too much, and said, that human felicity was to be valued but at the length of a day: and Demetrius Phalereus allowed it but a moment's space. Consider, then, how vile are all things temporal, and how frail is all the glory of the world, being grounded upon so feeble a foundation the goods of the earth can be no greater than is life, which give them their value; and if that be so poor and short, what shall they be? what good can be of value, which is sustained by a life so contemptible and full of misery? A figure of this was the statue of Nebuchadnezzar, which, although made of rich metal, as of gold and silver, yet was founded on feet of clay; so as a little stone falling upon it, overthrew it unto the earth. All the greatness and riches of the world have, for foundation, the life of him who enjoys them, which is so frail and slippery, that not a little stone, but even the grain of a grape hath been able to ruin and overthrow it.

I shall not, therefore, be ambitious of a rich mausoleum after my death, for the repose of my body; nor do I desire a stately sepulchre, a beautiful urn, or that my name or actions should be engraven in marble: I know this, that if I shall be miserable and unhappy hereafter, they will be but for my greater shame and reproach. Out of this life I can carry nothing but my good works; I will not add unto my evil ones that of vain glory; I will take heed whereon I set my heart; since the accomplishing of what I wish, may be a punishment of my desires; if those things of the earth which I most love and desire should continue, if they be taken from me, it is a chastisement of my earthly affection; and if I be permitted to enjoy them, I am fearful that they may be the temporal reward of some good work, which may either diminish or deprive me of the eternal.

CHAP. V.

The Miseries of Temporal Life..

IF man, before he was born, knew what he was to suffer in his life, he would not be born at all; therefore, Silenus being

demanded what was the greatest happiness man was capable of, said, 'Not to be born, or die quickly.' With reason did Democritus say, That the life of man was most miserable, since those who seek for good, hardly find it, and evil comes of itself, and enters our gates unsought for: insomuch as our life is always exposed unto innumerable dangers, injuries, losses, and to so many infirmities, that, according to Pliny and many physicians, Greeks and Arabians, there were more than thirty several sorts of new diseases discovered in the space of few years; and now every day finds out others, and some so cruel, that they are not to be named without horror; and the malice of the disease is not greater than many times the remedies strange. Some have been cured by cauterizing with fire, by sawing off a member, by trepanizing the scull, or drawing bones from it; others have been cured with the opening of the belly, and drawing forth the guts. Above all, the cure of Palæologus II., emperor of Constantinople, was most cruel, whose infirmity, after a year's continuance, found no other remedy but to be continually vexed and displeased; his wife and servants, who most desired his health, having no ways to restore it, but by disobedience, still crossing and opposing him in what he most desired: a harsh cure for a prince! If remedies be so great evils, what are the infirmities? The sickness of Mæcenas was so strange, that he slept not, nor closed his eyes in three whole years. That of king Antiochus was so pestilential, that his loathsome smell infected his whole army, and his body flowed with lice and vermin. Consider here the end of majesty, when the greatest power of earth cannot defend itself against so noisome and contemptible an enemy. In the same manner Feretrina, queen of the Barcæans, all the flesh of her body turned into maggots and grubs, which, swarming every where, at last consumed her. Some have had serpents bred in their arms and thighs, which have devoured their flesh even whilst they lived. With reason, then, does man enter into the world with tears, as divining the many miseries which he shall have time enough to suffer, but not to lament; and, therefore, begins to weep so early. All the days of man are full of grief and misery.

What shall I say of those strange pestilential distempers, which have destroyed whole cities and provinces? In many