IT was the fault of our first Parents, ambi­tiously to desire a Divinity of know­ledge, and their posterity (for the most part) are as base, as they were proud, contenting themselves with much lesse then belongeth to their hu­manity, being ignorant, not onely of their immortall state in the future, but of their condition of mortality in the present world, such have need to be catechiz'd with this que­stion of St. James, —What is your life? and because the most of them know not, what reply to returne unto it, he makes the answer for them himselfe, in these words, It is even a va­pour.

If you aske againe, what is a vapour? The answer further sheweth you, that it is such a thing, as is next to nothing, ra­ther [Page 2]ther the appearance of a thing, then any solid reality, and that not a permanent, but a passant appearance, even as a vapour which appeareth for a little time, and then vanisheth away.

First of the Question.

— What is your life? Which is very considerable both in re­spect of the forme and of the matter of it. I forget not how Phylosophicall Heroalds assigne them their places, giving the precedence to matter (by order of nature) but that must be taken in a right degree of Comparison, matching the next matter and forme together, for so the forme is educed out of the power of the matter, and by consequence commeth af­ter it; but a generall and remote forme (as this frame of words, as they are interrogative) is before the particular matter, the life of man enquired of in it. First then of the words, as they are formally a Question not of any trifling or small matter, but of a matter of great moment and impor­tance.

For the former, we find it frequent and familiar in the Scripture, to minister instruction, by way of interrogation or question: as in that excellent Sermon of our Saviour upon the Mount (whereof S. Matthew maketh repetition in the fifth, sixth, and seventh Chapters of his Gospell) teaching Christians what confidence they ought to have in his pro­vidence, hee demandeth, Is not the life more then meat, the body then raiment? Math. 6.25. Behold the foules of the aire, for they sow not, neither doe they reape, nor gather into barnes, yet your heavenly Father feedeth them: Are you not much better then they? ver. 26. Which of you (by taking thought) can adde one Cubite to his stature, ver 27. If God cloath the grasse of the field (which to day is and to morrow is cast into the Oven) shall hee not much more cloath you? ver. 30. and (to the same purpose) is the 7 ^th Chapter. What man is there of you, who if his Sonne aske bread will give him a stone? and if he aske Fish will give him a Serpent? ver. 10. I give you these few in­stances for many; and I shall give you two reasons for all.

The one is to stirre-up your attention to a due consideration of that which is put to the Question: for there is an Emphasis [Page 3]in such a form of words, more then in a plain Proposition whe­ther affirmative or negative.

The other is this, if the party (to whom the Question is pro­posed) be able to make answer to it, it puts him to bethinke himselfe of it, and to like it the better (when he hath made it) not only, because it is (as he conceiveth it) true, but because (as he knoweth it) it is his own.

We shall not doe any thing unbeseeming the gravity and sadnesse of this Assembly, if we bring downe the observation, Applic. 1. to a use of Instruction of little children (by way of question and an answer) commonly called by the name of Catechising: and that, according to the originall Text, Gal. 6.6. which exactly rendered runneth thus, Let him that is [...] Catechised, com­municate to him that [...]. Catechiseth him in all good things. This ex­crcise (where it hath been conscionably and constantly practi­sed) hath made such little ones, so great Proficients in the knowledge of Religion, that therein their gray-headed grand­fathers have been but children unto them, and were it more in use, both privately and publikely, we should find more fruit of our publike labours, then now we doe, for the heads of Ca­techisme (as they are called) would make a body of Divinity, by which as by a patterne of wholesome words, 1 Tim. 6.3. the ordinary hearer might be the better inabled, to make try­all of his teacher, and might be so firmely established in the faith, that he should not be like those children, of whom the Apostle saith, They are tossed too and fro and carried about with every winde of Doctrine, by the sleight of men and cunning crafti­nesse, whereby they lye in wait, to deceive. Ephes. 4.14. They would be a stocke of holy treasure, wherby they might be rea­dily furnished for religious discourse, upon good occasion, and in fit company: (for all seasons and societies are not conveni­ent for it,) and the questioning of the younger sort (before the ancient) would be a good meanes to teach them that, which they are ashamed otherwise to learne, though any way of learning, were better then such ignorance, as is in them, who (out of a thousand Sermons) cannot repeat so much, as is contracted and brought together in a little Catechisme, and the reason may be, because what is committed to catechised [Page 4]Disciples, is but as lent money, which must be repayed, or re­turned againe, when they are questioned about it, whereas what is delivered in a Sermon, is taken for the most part, and by the most as free gift for which the receivers are not to be called to any accompt, and of which no paiment is expected from them.

Have we not then just ground of complaint, Ʋse against such, as have brought so profitable a practise (wereby our people might be soundly grounded, in sacred knowledge) not only out of use, but out of credit too, so as if it were some base and beggerly rudiment, and could not (without indignity to the discipline of the Gospell) be continued? The cause of this dislike and disdaine (besides the inconsideration and neg­ligence of many) hath beene an over-high estimation of it in some, who have set it up above the preaching of the Word, and that so farre, as for it to put downe the afternoones Ser­mon, and some (to cry quittance with such contempt) would excummunicate Catechising out of the Church, and yet both pretend the edification or building up of the people in Reli­gion; strange builders they be, (doubtlesse) who either refuse the foundation of Catechisticall grounds, or admitting of the ground-worke permit not the super-structure of preaching to be placed upon it, but since authority hath restored the Sab­bath to its right of a double service, from the Pulpit (so that the sacred seeds-men are allowed (according to Solomons counsell) In the morning to sow their seed, and in the evening not to let their hand rest, because they know not whether shall prosper this or that, or whether they both shall be alike good, Eccles. 11.6. It were to be wished, that the other service were re­sumed to ordinary practise, and if any have so far Idolized it, as, (in a blinde zeale unto it) to blaspheme preaching, M ^r. Prin in the Epist: De­dicat: before his first part of the Antipath: of the Prelacy. Ep. pag. 13. saying that expounding of the Catechisme is as bad as preaching, we must not (for all that) revenge the wrong done to it, upon that ex­ercise which is of so good use to edification, as hath been shew­ed, but as we keep up the reputation (both of prayer and prea­ching) though some have cried up the one, to put downe the other, so should we uphold the practice of preaching, and ca­techising, as usefull assistants the one to the other, both being [Page 5]ordered (so as in pious discretion they ought to be) so as may most promote the glory of God, and the salvation of souls, and with this we may well conclude the forme of this Question, and so proceed to a consideration of the matter of it, and of that first in Generall, then in Particular.

The latter will fitly fall into the handling of the answer; (to which I will reserve it) and for the Former, it may minister un­to us an Observation, for the moving of grave and serious que­stions, such were those of our Saviour before cited, out of his Sermon in the Mount, to which we will adde another of his, of a matter of more weight and moment then the whole world: It is that in the 16 ^th. of Mat. 26. What is a man pro­fited, if he shall gaine the whole world and loose his owne soule? or what shall a man give in exchange for his soule? which importeth, that if there could be such a bargaine made, that a man might have the whole world for the sale of his soule, he should (for all that) be a looser by it; for he might (notwithstanding) bee a bankrupt, a beggar, begging (in vaine) though but for a drop of cold water, to coole his tongue, Luk. 16.24. for prevention of which losse and distresse, the Apostle multiplies many materiall questions, (in Emphaticall manner) concer­ning the meanes, viz. an utter estrangement from commu­nion with the wicked, which he presseth in this sort, What fellowship hath righteousnesse with unrighteousnesse? what commu­nion hath light with darknesse, what concord hath Christ with Be­lial, what part hath he that beleeveth with the Infidell? 2 Cor. 6.14, 15.

In such Questions as these is alwayes somewhat presup­posed, expressed, or prepared, whereby the hearer may be bet­tered since they are good to the use of edifying, Ephes. 4.29. and (that they may be so to us) we will now make some ap­plication of them, and therein we shall first addresse a di­rection and admonition for materiall and profitable inqui­ries, and then a reproofe to vaine curious and wicked Que­stions.

For the first, it will be matter of great advantage, Vse 2. for a pro­sperous passage to our Land of Promise, to have in readinesse, a catalogue of such Questions, as may most conduce to quicken, [Page 6]our consideration and care both of our present and future state, and by them (every day) to catechise our selves in some such manner as this.

What is my Constitution? whence mine Originall? whi­ther (by dissolution) shall I be drawne or driven? am I not composed of a mortall body, and of an immortall soule? was not that (at the first) from the dust? and shall it not at last be resolved into dust againe? and my soule immediately derived from God, infused by creation, and created by infusion into my body? and of much more value not only then it, but then the whole world besides? what is it that uniteth them together, is it not the breath of life? and what is that either breath or life? is it any better then a quick vanishing vapour, at least vanishable, every moment? And when it is vanished, and my soule seperated from my body, whither goeth it, what becometh of it? is it not put into a state (whether of woe or welfare) immutable? and the lot of an happy or unhappy change, answerable to the choice of an holy or unholy course? And though by death my body be not only vile and lothsome (both to sight and sent) but farre asunder from my soule, whether it be in Heaven or Hell, (for though Hell and the grave have both one Sheo [...]. Name, the regions of darknesse and of the first and second death are at a very great distance) will it not become by concomitance perpetuall partaker of the same condition with my soule, whether it be carried by the Angells into Abrahams bosome, or hurried by the Devils into the infer­nall pit.

Thence will fitly follow the question of the converted Kee­per of the Prison (I say keeper of the prison rather then of the prisoners, for they were miraculously enlarged, their bands loosed, the doores opened by God for their deliverance ( Act. 16.33.) What must I doe to be saved? and must I not (as he was presently taught) be saved by my Faith? by Faith in the pre­tious blood of the Sonne of God? And doth not that Faith engage me, to love him above all either things or persons, and that love oblige me, to keepe his Commandements? even to the deniall of my desires, and delights, were they as deare unto me as my right eye or right hand? to the laying downe of my [Page 7]life for him, as he did for me, and the renouncing of my nea­rest friends, Licet parvu­lus ex collo pen­deat nepos, licet (sparso crine & scissis ve­stibus) ube a (quibus te nu­trierat) mater ostendat, licet Pater in limi­ne jaceat, per­calcatum perge Patrem, siccis oculis ad vex­illum crucis evola Hieron. ad Heliodo [...]ū. Tom. 1 p. 2. when they shew themselves to me most affe­ctionately friendly? to take up his Crosse, though I should be sure to sinke under it, as low as the grave? and is it not my duty and his due (having saved me from death) by dying for me, that I should serve him in holinesse and righteousness: all the dayes of my life?

And (besides my daily devotion to him) doe I not owe him, the solemne service of a weekely Sabbath, in his San­ctuary? and when I come to the place where his honour dwelleth, should I honour him as hypocrites doe with my lipps, and keepe my heart farre from him? doth not he know the secrets of my soule, better then any one knoweth, either my body or my raiment which is most in sight? and doth he not hate hypocriticall eye-service as a meere mocking of him to his face? And should not I make his Sabbath, such a de­light unto my soule as not onely not to be weary of well­doing, in the duties of the day, but to long for the returne of it, in the revolution of the weeke? Is not his word more pretious then thousands of gold and silver, in tast more de­licious then the hony and the hony combe? and are not the dainties of his Table, his flesh for meate, his bloud for drinke, a more refreshing and satisfying Feast (without cloying sa­tiety) then all the variety of Vitellius his Table, though furni­shed with no fewer then Suet. in vita Vitel. Chap. 13. 9000. dishes at a Meale.

And after these Quaeries of Piety, that we may without halting, and with uprightnesse and integrity, walke in the du­ties of both Tables, it will be requisite, that (for the practife of Justice and Charity) we pose our selves with such inquiries as these.

Ought I not to doe unto all men as I would have all men doe un­to me? And is not this the summe of the law and the Prophets? Math. 7.12. would not I be pittied, comforted and succoured, were I in any distresse of mind, of body or estate? Would I not (if I had offended another) rather have the wrong remit­ted, then pursued to revenge? And (if another had offended me) would I not wish that he should offer himselfe to recon­ciliation with me? Would I be spoyled or defrauded of my [Page 8]right? reviled to my face, reproached, or rashly censured behind my backe? Such Questions as these (taken first and last, like a physicall receipt for the soule, to which you may adde more of your selves, and some more pertinent to your owne particular condition) if by serious consideration put close to our consciences, and pressed home to a full resolution and conclusion, would make us better Christians in the Church, better Subjects of the King and State, better neigh­bours in City and Country, better members of the family (un­der any of the occonomicall Relations, of husbands, wives, parents, children, masters or servants, hosts or guests) then commonly are to be found in the societies of men. To these directions morall reason giveth her consent and suffrage, as we may observe in the saying of Cicero to Si haec duote­cum verbarepu­tasses, quid ago? respirasset cupi­ditas, & ava­ritia paululum. Cicer. Orat. pro Quintio. Nevius. If thou hadst put this short Question to thy selfe, what doe I? or what am I about to doe? thy concupiscence and covetousnesse, had not made such post-haste, to the prejudice of another mans right.

Now from our direction (in putting interrogatories to our selves) we must turne to correction, and reproofe of those, who either make no enquiries at all, or make them amisse, not of things materiall and usefull; for the former sort there are divers who constantly forbeare, that which the Apostle (but in some cases) forbids, that is, asking of Questions for conscience sake, 1 Cor. 10.25. never communing with their owne hearts, as the Psalmist counselleth, Psal. 4.4. nor examining themselves, as the Apostle prescribeth, 2 Cor. 13.5, they will have the more to answer for one day, and the lesse to answer for themselves, when their owne consciences, which by their sensuality, and Satans subtilty are laid a sleepe, shall be awakened, to wit­nesse against them at Gods Tribunall, where when they shall be particularly questioned, as Cain was, Gen. 4.6, 7, 9. They will not be able to answer one of a thousand, Job 9.3.

Now for those who question amisse, some are impertinent, some trifling, some curious and presumptuous, some distrustfull, some blasphemous Questionists: for the first sort, they are such as are busie and inquisitive into such matters as most concerne others, [Page 9]but themselves little or not at all, a spice of this inquisitive­nesse appeared in Peter, John 21. when he put the question (concerning the beloved Disciple) what shall this man doe? ver. 21. To which he received a round reply (by way of re­proofe) If I will that he tarry till I come, what is that to thee? follow thou me, ver. 22. In this fault Peter hath many follow­ers; for what one of the worthiest of the ancient Fathers com­plained of (in his time) is a part of many mens practice in e­very age. Curiosum ge­nus ad cognos­cend [...]m vitam alienam, defidi­osum, ad corri­gendum uam. August. Confes. lib 10. cap. 13. There are a sort of men, saith he, who are curious in their enquiry into other mens lives, and carelesse in correction of their owne; and I would to God there were not many such al­most in every place.

The second sort are such as the Apostle takes notice of, and gives warning to beware of them, and their questions, calling them foolish and unlearned questions, Tit. 3.9. 2 Tim. 2.23. though there be some who pretend (if not to a Monopoly, yet) to a Prelation of learning and (in ostentation of it) shew themselves (such as Stapleton called Bodin) Bodinus magnus nugator Stapleton orat. contra bujus tē ­poris politicos. great triflers, such are many of the Schoole-men, who in their disputes, when they should soberly propose, and discusse materiall and profita­ble Problems in Divinity, move and solve many very foolish, and some very ridiculous questions, whereof I could give you a Catalogue, but that you would looke upon it, as a list of too light a colour, for the funerall habit I now weare. Luther (in detestation of their vaine jangling, and doting about que­stions, as S. Paul phraseth it, 1 Tim. 6.4.) with some trans­portation of spirit (after his manner) used an immoderate Meiosis of them, which was this, Prope est ut jurem. nullum esse Theologum Scholasticum, qui unum caput Evangelij in­telligat, praeser­tim Lipsensem. Luther. Tom. 1 Oper. lat. Ep 47. I had almost sworne (said he) that there is not one Schoole-Divine, especially a Lipsian, who under stands one Chapter of the Gospell, or of the Bible, and if his passion and opposition in Religion, made him an incom­petent Judge of their dictats, you may abate (in your belief) as much as you please of the severity of his censure, yet those that reade his workes, and the chiefe Doctors of their School­Divinity, may find cause perhaps to consent with Erasmus (a man of a calmer spirit, and acknowledged by two Popes, A­drian the 6 ^th and Leo the 10 ^th) for a Son of the Roman Church, Lutherus tā ­tusest ut plus e­rudtar, & pro­ficiam ex lecti­one unius pa­gellae Luthera­nae quam ex tota Toma. Loc Com ex Luther. operib. clas. 14 f. 50. who professed that himself profited more, by one little page [Page 10]of Luthers writings, then by all the Schoole doctrine of Aqui­nas, whom Papists admire, if not adore, as an Angelicall Doctor.

The third sort are such as make presumptuous inquiries into, and encroachments upon divine Counsels, prying into the Arke of Gods privacy, with such a busie and curious inquisi­tivenesse, as if they would with a pick-locke rifle the Cabinet of his most reserved secrets, and breake open every Seale, to find out that, which he would have concealed from all eyes. This is a branch of that pernitious curiosity of our first Parents, where to they were tempted by the Devill, and which first thrust them upon a breach of Gods prohibition of the tree of Knowldge, and afterwards, thrust them out of Paradice, and so from the fruition of all other fruits, wherewith it was vari­ously and abundantly furnisehed; and hence also (for satisfacti­on to over-curious Inquisitours) are those audacious determi­nations, concerning mens lives and fortunes, by the calculati­on and casting of nativities, and it was doubtlesse from the Devill that Saal consulted with the devill by the witch of En­der, 1 Sam. 28.8.

To these presumptions, questions must be sorted, such as that which (some say) was proposed to S. Angastine, vi [...] ▪ What did God before he made the world? To which the answer was as sharpe, as the question was sawcy, viz. Proesul ad baes Lybicue, fubrica­bat Tartara dixir, His, queis serutari talia, mente juvat. Georg. Sabin. Poet. That he made Hell for such curions questionists, as he that mooved that que­stion.

The fourth sort of offensive and faulty inquisitiours, are those that shew more love to themselves, then faith in God, per­plexedly and distrustfully demanding, What shall we eate, and what shall we drinke, or what shall we put-on? Mat. 7.25. hu­mane care and providence I confesse is subordinate to divine, and that so farre, that he that sleights his part in obedience to God, forfeits Gods part of beneficence to himselfe, and to his, whether person or estate, and incurreth the severe censure of teh Apostle, He that provideth not for his owne, especially for­those of his owne house, he hath aenyed the Faith, and is worse then an Infidell, 1 Tim. 5.8. Yet he provides ill for his soule, who makes a mixture of diligence and difference in provision for the body.

[Page 11]The last and worst sort are thole blasphemous and Atheisti­call questionists, who in a deriding manner aske, Where is the promise of his comming? 2 Pet. 3.4. but especially such an one, who asked of a Christian in scorne of Christ. Theod, l. 3. c. 18. Sozom l. 6. c. 2, Osiand. Epit. Cent. 4. l. 3. c 3 4 Paraeus et Cor­nel. àlop. in Mat c. 13. v. 55 What is the Car­penters Sonne doing to day? who returned him an answer, as witty as the question was wicked, He is making a Coffin, said he, for the funerall of Julian, and his answer proved a Prophe­ey, for (within a very little while after) he was marked out for the Coffin by an Arrow from Heaven, which he thought to be shot by Christ himselfe, whom he tooke for his An­tagonist, and confest he was overcome and conquered by him.

Thus larre the question, now the Answer, It is even a va­pour, &c. And this is a kind of definition of it, but rather Rhe­toricall, then a Phylosophicall, rather Metaphoricall then proper; There is much adoe among the Philosophers (espe­cially betwixt Cardan and Scaliger) how to define it, this va­pour (as the Apostle cals it) may be vanished away, before a man can relate and poyse the severall opinions upon it, and resolve which hath most right to put the rest to silence, for the present it may suffice, which is most received, and that is this.

Life is the Act and Pigour of the soule, and of it's Organ or In­strument the body, while they abide united together; Of this life, the principall proofe and preservative both, is breathing, ther­fore when God gave life to the first humane body (formed of the earth,) he is said, to breath into his nostrits the breath of life, Gen, 2.7. And when he taketh away the breath, man dieth. Psal. 104.29. And this breath is called a vapour, and a vapour is called halitus a breath, and as a vapout is soone vanished, first appearing, and after a while disappearing (to speake answe­rably to the words in the [...] originall) so the breath is easily stopped, and then the living creature liveth no more.

If I keep to my Text (and it hath given me no cause to forsake it) I must present you with a very plain and well known obser­vation upon it, which is, That the life of man is very short, Doct. and not more short then uncertaine: If you tell me you know this alrea­dy. I shall readily confesse it, and you cannot deny, that nei­ther [Page 12]your worke nor ours is done, when we have taught and you have heard, what you ought to know: for your know­ledge must proceed to practise, and your practise commonly comes so slowly on, in what you know, that many times the notions which are most familiar to your understandings are the greatest strangers to your practise, to which there is more adoe to perswade you, then to instruct you; and yet for mat­ter of instruction, I doubt not, but we shall tell you, some­what worth your notice, which most of you know not, or if I should bring you no new thing for the matter, I should hope (though treating on the old theame of death) to keepe life in your attentions: for (as Eadem quae didicisti ita do­ce, ut cum dicas novè, non dicas nova. Vinc. Leren contra beres. cap. 27. Vinc. Lerenensis noteth) the diffe­rence betwixt new for the matter and new for the manner, the latter may be both profitable and acceptable; without the for­mer, when known matter is set forth, in a new mould or man­ner of handling.

And yet again I know not, why ordinary things (especially of necessary use) should loose their acceptance, because they are usuall: for what is more constant and continuall then the vicis­situde or alternate course of day and night, of action and rest, of refreshing by dyet and sleep? yet no man thinks they return too often, and to keep close to our present Argument, it is both often observed, and much commended in a great Philip the Father of A­lexander. King (the father of a greater) that he was well-pleased every morning to heare in the same words a Monitory of Mortality, for his readinesse for death, which might either steale-in, or rush-in upon him every moment. And that a man may doe that wise­ly, which he can doe but once, and which precludeth, all re­tractation and remedy, if done amisse, a wise-mans life hath been defined (by a principall Plato apud Cel. Rhodigin. lib. 19. cap. 8. Philosopher) to be a meditati­on of death, if so, it will be no prejudice (I am sure) to your prudence, to attend with patience, while I deliver you, not in any very long speech, some necessary notions of that, which after a short appearance passeth away.

The shortnesse of life (Vapour-like) hath various expres­sions in the Scripture, It is compared by David to a fading flower, Psal. 103.15. to a fleeting shadow, Psal. 144.4. and by Job, to the passage of a Weavers shuttle, Job 7.6. and here, [Page 13](you see) to a vanishing vapour, which we must (for reasons) referre.

First to the prime and most predominant cause of all things.

Secondly to inferiour and secundary causes subservient to his purpose, and providence.

For the first, as God is the Authour and giver of life, Gen. 2.7. 1 Sam, 2.6. so gives he the measure of it in what proportion best pleaseth himselfe, unto Methuselah he made a very large measure as taken out of the whole peece of secular duration, and to some he allowes but a snip of time, as to Davids Child who lived not to receive the Seale of Circumcision set upon him, as under the Gospell many by the Ministry of the Mid­wife are borne once, but tarry not to be borne againe by our administration of the Sacrament of Baptisme, though it re­quire no adjournement to the 8 ^th. day, as Circumcision did, and of himselfe, saith the Psalmist, thou hast shortned my dayes, Psal. 89.45. even to the narrow measure of an hand-bredth, Psal. 39. v, 15. and this he doth by his Power as a Creator, and by his Office as a Judge, rewarding sinne with death, Rom. 6.23.

2. For secundary causes, (besides sinne, deserving death, and provoking Gods Justice to hasten it upon sinners (though to some death be sent in hast, as an invitant to a feast, not as a Serjeant to arrest) they are within us or without us.

Within us, Diseases and distempers in the humours and Passions.

Without us, Poisonous Malignities, wrathfull hostilities, and casuall mishaps.

The gate of life is but one, the posternes or trap-dores of death are many, I may call them so, for a man is taken (by death) as by a trap, and that such a one as catcheth sodainly, killeth certainely, and holdeth fast what it taketh hold of.

1. First for the causes within us, to begin with diseases: It is above 2000. yeares agoe, that (as Ante bis mil­le firmè annos, 300. morborum, &c. Erasm. Chiliad, Pro­verb. dulce Bel­lum inexpert. p. 298. Erasmus said in his Chi­liads) there have been reckoned up, 300. Names of them, and there be many under one Name, many Namelesse, which pose the Physitians, not only how to cure them, but how to call [Page 14]them, and then they give it their passe under the name of the New disease, and passe it will for they cannot stop it.

Of these though many feed upon nature by degrees and some­times also without noyse, as a moth eateth into a garment, some sodainely destroy it, as a fire doth a faggot of dried Thornes, for divers dye with very short sicknesse, and some without any sicknesse at all, we have daily experience of various descants, made (by death) upon this narrow ground of an hand­bredth, as David measures the life of man, Psalm. 39.5. We see some grownd with the Stone, some smitten downe with the Epilepsy, or an Aposteme (or as the Vulgar miscall it, Im­postume) which secretly and insensibly gathered to an head, may breake in a moment, and stop the breath of mans bosome, or stifle the spirits of his braine, some blowne up with the Collick, or Iliaca passio, some eaten up by a Consumption, some by a multiplication of Pherecides of the Island of Syros dyed of a great quanti­ty of Lice. Aelian var. Hist. li. 5. c. 28. Creeping vermine, and some drow­ned with the Dropsie, some burnt with a Fever: And some of them are such Epidemicall malignities, against the health and life of man, that the Chambers of death are enlarged, and great and wide caves to be digged (for more roome) where the dead are piled up (as Sampson said of the slaughtered Philistines) by heapes upon heapes, Judg. 15.16. while faire and spacious roomes, above ground are empty, for want of living guests, to lodge in them; yea such desolations have been made among men by devouring Postilence, (as Thucidides and many other Authours have left upon Record.) that the living have beene scarce left enough to bury the dead.

2. And for the affections and passions of the mind, the di­stempers of them are no lesse deadly to some, then the disea­ses of the body, we will instance in Love and the contraries to it Envy and Wrath, in Hope and Feare, in Sorrow and Joy.

1. For Love, we finde the Church sick of Love to Christ, Cant. 2.4. and we are sure that Christ dyed for Love of his Church, Eph. 5.25. and that Love which is moerely humane, hath (by experience) proved mortall to many, what David wished to have suffered for Absolom, saying in (the pangs of his excessive Love unto him) would God I had dyed for thee; 2 Sam. 18.23. to the same have divers actually exposed them­selves, [Page 15]sometimes by deadly adventures, for their friends, sometimes with their friends, to which danger, nothing in­duced them, but meere Love unto them, but it is more ordi­nary for men, and women both to dye of the excesse of this passion, upon defect of enjoyment, so might Ammon have done when he fell sick of longing for Thamar, if Jonadab his carnall friend, but spirituall enemy, had not (for the recovery of his body) advised the ruine of his soule, 2 Sam. 3. v. 2, 3, 4. And what was but fabled in the Ovid in his Fable of Iphis hanging hun­selfe, for love to Anaxarets. Cumforibus la­quei religaret vincula, summis Inscruit (que) ca­put. Metamorp. lib. 14. Poet of Iphis, laying violent hands on himselfe, (to the taking away of his life) through im­patience of his Love, hath been often tragically acted, by divers, whose love to others (for want of reciprocation of affection from them, and of grace and reason to rule it) hath turned to a deadly hate against themselves. And where that affection is answered, it hath proved as deadly in excesse, as in defect of fruition, especially when degenerated from Love to lust, which is too familiar in the familiarity of different sexes; as is obserued by Philosophers in Birds, Beasts and Men, for Birds they note in Sparrowes, that they are very short lived by their frequent coition, especially the male kind, which Plin. Hist. nat. lib. 10. cap. 36. they say commonly liveth not above a yeare, and for the same reason, doe Mules (which are barren and ingender not) much outlive Asses and Horses, for they sometimes lived to the Idem; lib. 8. cap. 44. 80 h. yeare, but these seldome attained to halfe that age, the ordinary measure of their lives Arist. Hist. Animalium, 11.6. cap. 22. being 30. yeares, and what effects this affection worketh in the flesh, (when it is too flesh­ly) Solomon partly sheweth, Prov. 5.11. where he forewar­neth the wanton, of the consumption of the flesh, by that meanes, whereby though death approach, with a slow pace, yet it breeds a disease, more painefull then death, more shame­full then hanging, and sometimes killeth as sodainely as the sharpest Sword when it is thrust to the heart; whereof the Plin. Hist. cat. lib. 7. cap. 53. Naturall Historian giveth (for instance) the example of Cor­nelius Gallus, (who had beene Lord Pretor) and of T. Aetherius (a Romane Knight) both dying in the very act of unchastity.

Contrary to Love are Envie and Wrath, yet as if they were reconciled for mans ruine, they both concurte with it to im­paire [Page 16]his health, and to hasten his death.

Envie is a disease in the inward parts, fretting asunder the heart-strings, and eating into the very bones, Prov. 14.30. which how unjustly soever set against anothers good, (for the dislike of that whether it be in deed or in appearance sets it on worke) hath in this respect some affinity with justice, since it joyneth the — Carpit (que) & carpitur una supplicium (que) su­umest. Ov Met punishment and sinne together, for while an envious man repines at others, he pines away himselfe, and so is Eliphas his saying made good, upon him to his hurt, Envy slay­eth the Ideot, Job 5.2.

Of Anger he giveth the same deadly sentence, in the same place, which is sometimes executed on the sodaine, not only by a transient violence upon another, but by an immanent ve­hemence, upon the person of the Angry, as a Magirus a­gainst Galen, Phi. 1.6. c. 16. late learned Phi­losopher sheweth, confuting the opinion of an antient and famous Physitian, and wondring that he holdeth otherwise, and the reason he giveth of this deadlinesse of Wrath, is because (saith he) it forceth the vitall spirits out of the heart, without which a man cannot live.

Hope is another passion under which man is many times passive, for hope deferred maketh the heart sick (saith Solomon, Prov. 13.12.) and if utterly disappointed, it turneth that sicknesse to death, for as the Proverbe hath it, but for hope the heart would breake, so the hope being quite lost, the heart is not likely long to hold out, especially if the object of hope were a matter of moment.

Feare hath likewise a deadly force upon feeble spirits, for Causa multis moriendi, suit morbum suum nosse Senec de brevit. vitae. ca. 18. pa 180. some have dyed for feare they should dye, as a Gentleman at the siedge of S. Paul in France, Bishop Hall of Chistian mo­deration. li 1. Sect 14. p. 158. fell downe starke dead, in the breach without any stroake or touch, save what his heart gave him, by a fearfull apprehension of danger neere hand.

For sorrow, how killing a passion that is, we may learne by the plea of Judah with Joseph, for the reducing of his Brother Benjamin back to Jacob; It shall come to passe (saith he) when hee seeth that the Lad is not with us, that hee will dye, and thy ser­vants shall bring the gray haires of thy servant, our Father, with sorrow to the grave, Gen. 44.31. which though it usually kill by degrees, inward griefe wearing the heart as teares doe the [Page 17]cheekes without, yet sometimes it is such as slayeth outright upon the sodaine as Charron of wisdome, lib. 1 cap. 31. pag. 103. 1 Sam 4.18. some have observed, and this appeareth by the holy story; for that was it which smote old Eli to the heart, before he fell downe, and brake his neck: for when a Messenger from the Warres, brought sad tydings (of the vi­ctory of the Philistimes, against the Israelites) hee fell back­ward and broke his neck, upon the mention of the taking of the Arke, which is particularly noted in the Text, 1 Sam. 4.18. (as the worst part of that ill newes) and which set such a sad weight of sorrow upon his heart as bore him downe to the ground, from whence he was never able to rise againe.

If any passion or affection be a friend to nature it is Joy, yet that may prodigally dissipate the vitall spirits, as the story of the Queene of Sheba sheweth, 1 King. 10.5. and what enemy more deadly then that, when (as Plin. Nat. Hist. l. 7. c. 53. Pliny noteth) a Woman that thought her Son dead at the Battle of Canna, dyed with an excesse of Joy at the sight of him, could she have sped worse in the middest of the Battle? Ibid. so did Sophocles and Denis of Cicely, being overjoy'd, upon tidings brought unto them that they had won the best prize among the Tragicall Poets.

Besides the diseases of the body and passions of the mind within a man, which in their excesse doe violently chase and force the soule out of its rightfull possession, there come upon him many killing mishaps from without, for very small matters, may be of great moment to hasten the dispatch of death. There is an In Nubia quae est Ethiopia, sub Egypto ve­nenum est cuj [...] grani unius de­cima pars, ho­minem, vel unū granum decem homines, &c. Dan. Senect. Hypomnem. Phys. Hypom. 2. cap. 2 pag 47. Ethiopian poison, whereof one graine will kill a man in a moment, and being devided into ten parts will kill ten men in a quarter of an houre, and as mans life is a vapour, so he whose breath (if he would have formed it into a doome of condemnation) might have been deadly to many had his breath stopped, his life taken from him by the vapour or sent of a new white-limed Chamber.

It was Hier. Epist. Tom. 1. pag. 40. Jovianus the Emperour and the Bucholz. Ind. Chronol. Iud. Chronol. ad An. 1574. p. 638. Cardinall of Lo­raine was lighted to his lodging, and to his long-home both at once, by a poisoned Torch, and a lesse thing then a Torch, a Candle, lesse then a Candle, the sent of the Snuffe of it, may put a Woman into Plin. nat. hist. lib 7. cap. 7. an untimely travaile, and put her to pangs [Page 18]of Child-birth, and of death both together.

The second generall cause of mans short and uncertaine life, is bloody hostility, for there are many men of blood and Be­lial, and some are so mad upon desperate adventures, that as the Wise man saith, they lay waite for their owne blood, they lurke privily for their owne lives, Prov. 1.18. but more for the blood and lives of others, who say unto their associates, Come with us let us lay waite for blood, let us lurke privily for the innocent without cause. ver. 11. We shall finde all pretious substance, wee shall fill our houses with spoile. v. 12. who (out of greedinesse of gaine) take the life of the owners thereof. v. 19. and as out of greedinesse of gaine, so out of envy, as in the Apology for He­rodotus, the Authour telleth of a little Child who killed his Brother, because the Mother of them both proferred him (as Joseph did Benjamin before the rest of his Bretheren) giving him a better, or greater refection of m [...]ate, then to himselfe: which we may the rather believe, by that we reade in Quintil. In­stit Orat. lib. 5. cap. 9. Quin­tilian of a Boy, who was naturally so cruell, as to make it a pastime, with a sharpe instrument to pluck out the eyes of Quailes, for which he was condemned by the Aecopagite Judges: And by the observation of Aug. confess. l. 1. c. 7. Augustine of a little suck­ing Infant, growing pale with envy to see another (such an one as himselfe) to be his partner, in the milke of his Nur­ses breast. Jealousie of the Wife of the bosome, hath the like operation for kinde, but for degree of indignation, it goeth farre beyond it, and for danger it as much exceedeth it, as a man in wit and strength overmatcheth a child; so much is sig­nified by Solomon, Jealousie (saith he) is the rage of a man, there­fore he will not spare in the day of vengeance, he will not regard any ransome, neither will he rest content, though thou givest him many gifts. Prov. 6.34, 35. and the Devill who was a mur­therer from the beginning, Joh. 8.44. and as antiently a decei­ver, as a murtherer, (for his first murther had as much of the subtilty of the Serpent in it, as of the sting,) so blindes the mindes of men, sometimes as to make not only the pas­sions of men, the motives to these bloody mischiefes, but to engage their consciences unto it, so farre as to make them conceive it a service acceptable to God, (and so as [Page 19]bound in conscience to performe it) to kill his best servants, so much our Saviour himselfe hath foretold, Joh. 16.2. and his saving by the powerfull imposture of the destroyer hath been often fulfilled Cent. 16. Ofi­and. Epit. cent. l [...] 2 ca. 2. part. 1. pag. 115. from that time to this.

In the last precedent Centurie we have a prodigious example, of his fanguinarie seducement, in an Anabaptisticall Enthu­siast, killing his own Brother, in the presence of his Parents, as an imitation of Abrahams offering to sacrifice his Son. Isaack, Gen. 22.10. God was pleased with the offer only, and forbad the act, v, 11, 12. but the Devill that red Dragon, as he is cal­led, Rev. 12.3. delighting in the effusion of mans blood, drove on the delusion of his fancy, through his conscience, affections and will to the execution of his hand.

All this while I have said nothing of the mortality of the Sword, in the prodigall effusion of blood by warre, which to that of single slaughters, is like the flowing of the Sea, to the running of the channels, whereof heretofore we have taken no­tice, only by heare-say or reading, and I wish I were put to it to make you apprehensive of it, only by memorandums out of antient and forraine warres, as of the Carthaginians and Ro­mans, or the Turks and Scythians, or of the Frenchmen and Spaniards, the Spaniards and Hollanders, the Swedes and Impe­rialists, or if we must have our part in that more then brutish malignity, (For the rage of beasts never bestrewed either Land or Sea with so many dead carcases as humane hostility hath done, nor was it ever so permanent in time as either to muse much upon mischiefe before they doe it, or to retaine a long remembrance of it after it is done?) that it were betwixt English and Irish, Protestant and Papist, but we have lived to be so unhappy, as to see death riding furiously upon his red Horse, with his great Sword in his hand, as hee is described in the Rovel. 6.4. and under his Colours, (who is the most Catholike Generall swaying in all Armies in the World) English against English, Prote­stant against Protestant, killing one another, first in a set Bat­tle Kinton where the Battle was, is in the vaile of the Red-horse, of the shape of a red-Horse cut out of a red Hill by the Coun­trey people, Cambd: of Warwick-shire in his Britan: p. 561. in the vale of the Red-horse, and since in severall places of the Kingdome, and yet, (like unconverted Sauls) we breath out threatnings and slaughter against one another [Page 20]at home, as if we had no enemies abroad, and that with such deadly bate and spight, and in such sort, that if the God of peace be not pleased, to take up the quarrell, the issue of Eng­lish and Protestant blood, may swell up to the Horses bridles, for 1600. furlongs, as the measure is observed, Revel. 14.20. come to passe which cannot be without many instances per­tinent to my Text, for how soone doe many men's lives (in a Battle) vanish like a vapour, their last breath mingling with the vapour and smoake, and their dying groanes stifled, in the hideous noyse, of roaring Artillery.

And if we hold on in the practice of these mutuall massacres of one another, we may become so hardened against both Christian charity, and common humanity, as to make but a sport or play of thrusting Swords into out fellowes sides, as we reade of Abners and Joabs Souldiers. 2 Sam. 2. v. 14, 15, 16.

The third generall cause of contraction of mans life is casuall mishaps; which are so many, as we may well say of them, as Plin. nat hist. lib 7. cap. 57. some doe of diseases, that they are innumerable: I will give a touch of some few particulars, to which your owne conside­ration [and it may be experience also] may adde many more, if a man doe but offer to stirre out of doores, where sinne lyeth (as was said to Cain, Gen. 4.) there death will be, as if there were such an inseperable society betwixt them, as Ruth pro­fessed unto Naomi, Ruth 1.16. (and indeed the league betwixt sinne and death is much more firme then that) Idem, lib 7. cap 53. Emilius Le­pidus did but hit his toe upon the doore-sill, and though the hurt were so farre from his heart, he died upon it. If a man get safely out of dores, it may be he shall not live to come in a­gaine: a beast chased and chafed by the driver may gore him to death, and there are divers instances of this kind; or a drun­kard worse then a beast, mocked by wine, and enraged by strong drinke, as Solomon saith, Prov. 20.1. (for it deludeth the fancy and raiseth the passions to fury) may fall upon him, as if he meant to sacrifice him to Bacchus, or in the streets a tile from an house, as a peece of a Milstone throwne from a Tow­er (which broke the skull of Abimelech, Judg. 9.53.) may smite him sodainly dead. The like deadly blow light upon the head of a Schollar, by the Purchas. Mi­crocosm. p. 190.191, 192. falling of a letter of stone from the [Page 21]battlements of the house of the Earle of Northampton neare Charing-crosse, while he was a spectatour of the funerall so­lemnities of Queene Anne, Mother to his Majestie that now is.

If he travell, a stumble, whether on horse-back or on foot, may so lay him along on the earth, as if he were to take mea­sure of his grave, whither, after one remove, followeth a com­mitment to close prison, there to remain, untill the great Judge of quick and dead release him.

If a man stay within doores, as conceiving (according to the ancient saying) his house is his Castle, his life may (there) many wayes be betrayed to death; for a violent winde may blow downe the house upon his head, and overwhelme him as it did Jobs children, Job 1. and as in the raign of Stows Chro. continued by How p. 130. K. William. 2 ^d. 606. houses were blowne downe by a Tempest in London. At his Table death may be in his diet, for a Reyson stone sto­ned Plin. Nat hist. cap. 53. Anacreon to death, a milstone could have done no more; and an haire in a messe of milke sodainly strangled Idem. Ibid. Fabius, could death have made more haste or done him more hurt with an halter? There may be death in the Cup, for there may be a Fly in it, and a Fly hath been the death of ( Fox Martyr. vol. 1. pag. 265. him, who takes upon him much more then belongeth to man) the Caiphas of Rome Pope Adrian the 4 ^th. Is there not then good cause (to give but a passant advertisement by the way) that we should not fall to our meat, as an horse to the manger, or a Swine to the trough, before we have begged the blessing of God upon what we are to eat, and that we take mannerly leave of God, when we have done, giving thanks to his goodnesse, not on­ly for his allowance of the good creatures (for out nourish­ment) but for a comfortable use of them, that they have not become unto us, as the Quailes to the Israelites accompanied with deadly wrath, when the meat was in their mouths, Psal. 78.30, 31.

To draw towards a summary Conclusion of this great A­rithmetician, who brings in the finall account and number of all our dayes, and makes such an exact reckoning of them, as no man can controule, we cannot but (by experience of all times, persons and places) acknowledge, that as a great Plin. Nat. hist. l. 7. c. 57. Phy­losopher [Page 22]losopher and Historian observes, though there be an infinite number of signes that presage death, there is not one knowne, that can assure a man of certainty of life and health.

Nor is there any Prescription of time to be pleaded against this King of terrours, as death is called, Job 18.14. no time unseasonable for his surprizall, no night so darke, but he can hit the marke, no day so bright that we can discover his com­ming towards us, if he will steale in upon us at unawares, we shall neither heare his feet of wooll, nor see his arms of steele, but shall feele him haply, when we doe not feare him, and receive a wound from him, for which no cure can be had of any.

No businesse so serious, that can cause him to adjourne his arrest, untill another day, nor is there any more hope of e­scape from him by art or flight, then there is of conquest of him by contending by fight: This is the only King against whom there is no rising up (as Agur phraseth the most absolute predominance, Prov. 30.31.) to make resistance against whose absolute Monarchy, by no humane power or prevalence may be pretended.

If any, it must be either the Prerogative of Kings, or the vigo­rous and cordiall Antidotes of Physitians; but not the former, for the mortal sy the is master of the royal Scepter, & it mowes downe the Lillies of the Crowne, as well as the grasse of the field. Nor can the Physitians (though called in as Advocates or Champions in the cause of nature, to aid and protect it, a­gainst this great warriour) prevaile any thing at all, to pre­serve it from death: their strongest Cordialls are against him, but as stubble to the great Leviathan, Job 41.28. Nor can they so much as save themselves, though by their art they professe the saving of others. Nay (as it were in scorne and contempt of medicines) death sodainly snatcheth them away, when they are applying their preservatives, or restoratives to others; as is storied of Plin Nat. Hist l. 7. c. 53. Cajus Julius a Chirurgeon, who dressing a sore eye, as he drew the instrument over it, was strucke with an instrument of death, in the act and place where he did it.

[Page 23]I have hitherto shewed you the causes of mans mortall mu­tability, and exemplified the shortnesse and uncertainty of his life, in so many instances, not meaning here to take up, and set up my rest: for though mans life be a vapour that soone va­nisheth away, I would have the observations of this vanity, to be like the distilled Rose-water, which comes downe from a vapour, and drops into the bottle, and is there preserved for especiall use, and my desire and prayer now is that (as it is in the 32. of Deutronomy) My doctrine may dropps as the raine, and my speech distill into your hearts as the dew, as the small raine upon the tender herbe and as the showers upon the grasse, Deut. 32.2. in a present application.

And I shall apply it many wayes, for it may serve,

1. As a spurre to our dsligence.

2. As a whip or scourge for our negligence.

3. As a check to vain confidence.

4. As a curbe to concupiscence.

5. As a prop unto our patience, so farre my devotion to this service would proceed, if my discretion told me I might expect your patience so long, it growing now so late.

For the first, Applic. 1. if our time and state in this life be as short and uncertaine as a vapour, and that vapour be but an appearance of a thing, rather then a thing indeed, and that appearance af­ter a while soone vanisheth away, how diligent and watchfull should we be while it is present (which is all the time of acti­on allowed unto us) to imploy it and improve it to our best ad­vantage for the future? Humane prudence will prompt us (while we do enjoy it) to make as good use of it; as possibly we can, and religious policy will stirre us up, to present expe­dition, and not to put off (untill to morrow) the performance of any good thing, which we may do to day (for at the next puffe of breath, we may blow away our life) but to use all di­ligence, in doing of good, while we have time, as the Apo­stle admonisheth, Gal 6.10.

We have some examples (of moment) though most con­trary in themselves, yet tending to this very end, viz. to shew where the time is but short, the endeavour must be great, to make it serviceable to most defirable ends. Our Saviour of [Page 24]himselfe, for our instruction and imitation hath said, I must worke the worke of him that sent me, while it is day, the night cometh when no man works, Joh. 9.4. By day is meant the time of life, while the vapour appeareth (like a bright cloud, Mat. 17.5.) and by night the time of it's vanishing away by death, wherin all things (that had life, and have it not) are be-nighted and wrapped-up in darknesse, yet there is betwixt the literall and figurative day and night, this difference to be observed; that the daies and nights have usually their turne in a proportionable measure of In some pla­ces there is six months day to­gether and six moneths night together. Plin Nat. Hist. l 2 c. 75. length and shortnes, which mutually and inter­changeably succeed one another: so in our ordinary Clymats, and in the extraordinary too, where the day So in places of 50 degrees of latitude. lasteth from the 10. of March, till the 13. of September, that is the space of 187. dayes (of our account) the night is as long and no lon­ger: but our day of life, may be but the length of a few hours, or which is much lesse minutes; our night of death, when we cannot work may be an age of many hundred years, and to some it hath bin some thousands already, besides there is no night naturall but is succeeded by another day, so that if any thing be left undone, there may be oportunity to redeeme the time, and to make amends for precedent neglects, but when the night of death is come, there is not another day to follow it, and to make supply for former failings.

It behoveth us then (while it is day with us) to be so much more intentively bent upon the businesse that belongeth unto us (which is to worke out our Salvation with feare and trembling, Phil. 2.12. wherein we worke the worke of him that sent us, as our Saviour did) as we have the lesse time for it, such was his diligence, and therein his example should be our rule, and upon the same ground, he that is most opposite to our Saviour (even the great destroyer) useth double diligence, and makes all the hast he can to out-work the children of light, in a quick dispatch of deeds of darknesse, His wrath is great, because his time is but short, Revel. 12.12. he is enraged so much the more, as by the shortnesse of time, he is the more restrained, for that he cannot do so much mischief as he would do, and if he had more time, he might do.

We should (out of love) desire to be like our good Lord and [Page 25]Master Christ, and out of duty doe as he (for our imitation) hath done before us, and we should not (for shame) sit down in sloth, while Satan goeth about (with all the haste and speed he can possibly make) to devoure whom he may, yea our di­ligence should be much more then his, since our businesse is a great deale better (I meane not that which most doe, but that which all should do) and our time much shorter, both for that which is past, and that which is to come.

For the time past he hath bin busie at his worke for some thousands of yeares already, and yet may be for some hundreds more to come, he may have time to bestirre himself in his trade of temptation.

But for our time, for what is past, it hath bin but short, and that which is to come may be nothing at all, to us, the next houre (for ought we know) may be none of ours.

Secondly, as this consideration of our transient life may serve for a spurre to make diligent, so it may be in stead of a rod for the negligent, who endeavour not to make any good use of their time, while they have it, to whom may well be applyed the saying of Non exiguum tempus babemus, sed multum per­dimus, non acce­pimus vitam brevem, sed feci­mus, nec inopes ejus, sed prodigi jumus. Senec. de brevit vitae, c. 1. pag. 165. Seneca, which is, That they have not received so short a portion of life (though it be very short, even like a vapour) as themselves doe make it, by their prodigall and carelesse expence of it.

Wherof one great part is cast away in doing nothing, as in our sleep and infancy; another we trifle out in meere childish vani­ties; a third is partly mis-spent in youthfull luxury; and a good part of the fourth is called a Reformation, if the humor be chan­ged, from dissolute excesse, to covetous desires, and worldly cares for riches and honours; and when either sicknesse or age, maketh men unserviceable for themselves, to such ends, that little which remaines is poorely imployed on that, for which the whole measure (if it had gone all one way) had bin little enough.

For what time or pains can be too much, to save our soules from hell to estate them in Heaven (when we die) and to u­nite them and our bodies both, in fruition of perfect grace and glory for ever, which must be procured while this vapour ap­peareth or not at all; who that thinkes of the excellency of [Page 26]that jewell, which our Saviour advanceth in value, above the price of the whole world, of the ineffable felicity, which God hath prepared for those that sincerely love, and diligent­ly seeke him, can conceive that the whole life of Methuselah, would make too long an apprentiseship (though under many such hard masters, as Laban was) to obtain an eternall freedom, in the City of Jerusalem which is above? For my part I cannot sufficiently admire the beneficence of Almighty God, who sets so great happinesse, at so low a rate, that in that little time, while a vapour appeareth, a man may purchase the obtainment of a most solid and ever during felicity: Nor the folly of most men, who of this short and uncertain measure, imploy the least part of it, to so excellent an end.

If a man having his lands divided into foure parts (answera­ble to the foure fingers of Davids hand-breadth of life, Psa. 39.5.) should leave one part of it wholy untilled, to bring forth nettles, or other wild weeds, as the field of the sluggard doth, Prov. 24.31. and should sow in one of the other three parts Darnell, in another wild Oates, and allot but a fourth for pa­sture and tillage, when the whole (if well husbanded) would be little enough, for necessary provision to support himselfe and his Family, what would his neighbours thinke or say of him? Would they not note him for such an one, as either yet had not proceeded to the age of discretion, or were gone be­yond it to yeares of dotage? or relapsed back to a second child­hood.

Or if a man who (hath a charge of wife, and children, and servants) and but a competent portion for them all, did care­lesly cast away one part of his meanes, at dice, puffe away a­nother in smoake, swallow downe another in superfluous draughts, and leave but a fourth part of all (for all other charges that concern himself and those that are committed to his kee­ping) would wise-men judge any otherwise of him, then as a man of an empty skull, or ill-tempered braines, and unfit to have an estate committed to his trust? though but for himself, much more unfit that others should be put to depend upon his care or fore-cast.

Doubtlesse (beloved) it is much more foolish to mis-spend [Page 27](as most do) the greatest part of this short and uncertain scant­ling of time, then so to mis-imploy either lands or goods, and yet their folly is more faulty, then these examples doe imply: for the fourth part of the ground is a permanent thing, and the fourth part of the estate, may be put into a sure hand, and so be better imployed by others, then by the owner it would be: but he that hath wilfully and wickedly wasted, three fingers of his hand-breadth of time, as we have noted the measure of it (out of the Psalmist) cannot be sure that either himselfe or any one for him, shall be trusted with the fourth for better use.

Of such foolish men as these, there are so many, that if the out­side on their backs, were suted to the lyning of their heads, they would make as great a shew in publike Assemblies, as yellow weeds doe in Corne-fields, but they goe in habits like other men, and some of them so farre beguile the world, and themselves both, as to be thought much wiser, then they that bestow the most of their waking houres, to better pur­pose. Thus I have bestowed the Rod, according to the sen­tence of the Wise-man upon the backe of fooles, Prov. 26.3. and Chap. 19.29.

3. The third Use of this short uncertainty of our State of mortality is, to give a checke to the vaine confidence of ma­ny men, who (as if they were sure of time enough) to pur­sue their pleasures and purposes, with as full scope and compasse as they desire, project many things, which they mind to doe, and promise and sometimes threaten, what they will do, when they know not whether their measure of time will reach home to such resolutions.

It is too great boldnesse to presume upon one day, for (as Salomon saith) A man knowes not what a day may bring forth, Prov. 27.1. The drunkard takes upon him (when he invites his vicious associats to excesse) to promise at their next meeting, their cheere will mend upon them, and they shall have more store, of that they most desire, Come (saith he) I will fetch wine, and we will fill our selves with strong drinke, and to morrow shall be as to day, and much more a­bundant, Esa. 56. ult. What er'e be to morrow it may be to [Page 28]morrow thou shalt not be, or not as to day not powring in su­perfluous draughts, but vainely begging (perhaps) for ne­cessory dropps, with the rich-man in flames, Luk. 16.24. for of all lives none more uncertaine, then a drunkards, since he stores up a stocke of corrupt humours, which are matter and mother and nurse to many deadly diseases within, and from without he meets (many times) with an untimely death, either by his own or anothers wrath, for strong drink is raging (as wee observed before out of the Proverbs of Salomon) and that rage may be bloody to him haply from that hand, which led him to excesse, as many examples shew, or by the unsteadinesse of head on horse-backe, or staggering of his feet on ground, he may be dashed upon some deadly dan­ger, and who hath not heard of many, who have some of these wayes unexpectly perished, and come to a fearefull end, before they thought they had proceeded to the mid-way of their walke.

But there is a confidence, (so much more vaine then this (though this I confesse be more vile then it) as it reacheth further in extent, as of those whom S. Iames noteth, in the next words before my Text, reproving them saying, To day and to morrow we will goe to such a City, and will tarry there a yeare, and buy and sell and get gaine, whereas you know not (saith he) what shall be to morrow. Jam. 4.13, 14. To day or to mor­row (say they) we will goe, if God say no, neither to day nor to morrow shall they be able to make good their word, for so short a time, a darke night of death may, (if God will) put an end to their dayes, before Noone, or (the next night) their soules may be taken from them, as was said to the foole in the Gospell, who flattered himselfe, with the hope of enjoyment of much goods, laid up for many yeares, Luk. 12.19. And when they project a journey (if they dye not so soone) they may be disabled for travaile, and either by sicknesse or lamenesse, be under so imperious and peremptory arrest, that they may not be able to move either a foote or finger towards it; they say they will continue there a yeare. But

The farther they reach out their resolution (of themselves) without reckoning with God, the worse: and it may be in a [Page 29]moment they may be removed, they know not yet, whether to Heaven or Hell, they will buy and sell the while (say they) but say God give them leave to live, it may be he will not enable them to traffique, they may be cast into such condition, as they may have either no minde, or no meanes to exercise com­merce: but they promise that and more too, they will not on­ly buy and sell, but they will get gaine, how know they that? they may buy and sell and (as the Proverbe hath it) may live by the losse, finding nothing but damage, where they looked for advantage, and it may be a damage unvaluable, unrecoverable, the losse of their soules, and of Heaven, which the gaine of a mil­lion of such worlds as this cannot countervaile, nor once lost can ever recover.

Beyond both these vaine, and vile boastings (for the time to come,) was that bold and bloody speech of Esau, wherein threatning his brother Jacob, he promised himselfe a pleasing revenge, The dayes of mourning for my Father, are at hand, then I will slay my brother Jacob, Gen. 27.41. an insolent as well as a violent resolution, for Isaacks and Iacobs life and his owne likewise were all at Gods disposall, as a vapour, to vanish or hold out as long as he pleased, and it was at his choice which should dye first; and though he were so hard-hearted, as to purpose his brother should waite upon his Fathers funerall, in blood, which he would not follow with a teare, it was in Gods power to keepe his hands from being as blood-guilty as his heart, and to cut him short of his hand-breadth, and to lengthen their measure as long as he listed.

There is a Proverbe, (which oftentimes proves a truth,) That threatned men live long, for even Isaack who dyed soonest lived about 50. yeares beyond this, and it is as true without a Proverbe, that threatning men may dye soone; that others may live, not onely the more safely without hurt, but the more securely without feare: of such the Prophet David hath fore-faid, that they shall not live out halfe their dayes, Psalm. 55.23. nay it may be not halfe a day: (for how soone is this vapour of life vanished away) or if they be suffered to runne their race to the utmost length, it is but as the Amorites were suffered to make up the measure of their offences to the full.

[Page 30]If then such wicked thoughts, for sinfull plots (in time to come) arise in our hearts, let us give them the check, in some such words as these; What doe I meane to project, and fore­cast for sinne afarre off, and to fore-speake an evill purpose, and (as it were) to threaten God before hand (for every sinne is an actuall affront of his Majesty, and every fore-purposed com­mission against him is in effect a commination of him) when my life is but a vapour, and so much in Gods disposall, so lit­tle in mine owne, that I should promise to doe nothing, but with the Lords premised leave, as the Apostle taught in the Verse next beyond my Text, You ought to say, if the Lord will we shall live, and doe this, or that, Jam. 5.15. The like limitation to this precept, you may observe in S. Pauls practice, Act. 18. 1 Cor. 4. 1 Cor. 6.16. Heb 6. and Socrates (the wisest of the Heathens) taught Alcibiades to be so mannerly in his language towards God as to use the like [...] Socrates to Alcibiades. reservation of his will and pre­lation of it before his owne, if this phrase were familiar in our mouthes, it would not only give present repulse to any evill purpose, for the time to come, but would be a powerfull charme, against the returne of it, and indeed a man dares not say, of any future sinne, I will commit it, if the Lord will, for if he so far respect the only unerring rule, the will of God, as to make respective mention of it, he cannot admit of any notion against it.

The 4 ^th. Application of this transient uncertainty of mans temporall life, may be a curbe to immoderate concupiscence, and doting delight in worldly things, whether Riches, Ho­nours or Pleasures, which are the three great I dolls of carnall­minded men: for why should any one much set his heart upon them, either in longing for them or taking too much joy in them, when so small a matter as the want of an empty com­plement, congey or gesture of reverence, may so imbitter many temporall contentments, of the choisest kind, and of a very high degree, as to make them vanish into nothing, even be­fore the vapour of a mans breath and life be vanished away, as the history of Haman sheweth, whose temporall delights were but as a vapour, by his owne confession, of shorter con­tinuance then his life, Esth. 5 ^t. from the 10 ^th. vers. to the 13. [Page 31]though that were shortened by a penall execution, c. 7. v. 10.

And if they should hold out, as long as a man liveth, they were not worthy of that estimation, that many worldly men have set upon them; but when a mans life vanisheth as a va­pour and they vanish before, how foolish a fondnesse is it, to let loose our affections towards them? and to fix them upon them, when evill dayes and yeares may come, wherein we shall take no pleasure in them, as Solomon saith, Eccles. 12.1. but so much paine (perhaps) as may make a man so weary of life, that the passionate expostulation of Job may be applyed to his case, Wherefore is light given to him that is in misery, and life to the bitter in soule? which long for death but it cometh not, and digge for it as for hid treasure, which rejoyce exceedingly, and are glad, when they find the grave, Job 3. v. 20, 21, 22.

But to the particulars, first for Riches, If a man were so rich as he would say he hath enough (as few rich men will doe, for most mens covetousnesse is like a Dropsie, which makes a man though he drinke never so much, to be ever thirsty) yet to say nothing of the uncertainty of riches, noted by the Apo­stle, 1 Tim. 6.17. which (as Solomon saith) make themselves wings, and flye away, Prov. 23.5. without taking leave of the owner, and leaving nothing but the print of talons in his heart, to torment him, they cannot availe to prolong the con­tinuance of this transient vapour, nor can they adjourne a mans removall, to his long-home, whether to Heaven or Hell, for one day, no not for an houre; for Death is such a rigid Ser­geant, as will not be bribed, by the richest Mammonist to put off his Arrest, witnesse that rich and wretched Cardinall and Bi­shop of Winchester, and Chancellour of England, Henry Bu­ford, (in the Reigne of King Henry the sixt) Fox Martyr. vol 1. pag 925. Col. 1 [...] who percei­ving he must dye, and that there was no remedy, murmured at death, that his Riches could not reprieve him till a further time; for he asked, Wherefore should I dye being so rich, if the whole Realme would save my life, I am able either by pollicy to get it, or by Riches to buy it, fye (quoth he) will not death be hired? will money doe nothing? No, nothing at all on this side the grave, for a rescue or reprieve from death, and beyond it, below it, (as far as Hell) the money that would buy the whole Vintage of [Page 32]wine, throughout the whole world, will not purchase a drop of water to coole an hell-scorch'd tongue.

Secondly, for Honour, as the morall Philosopher saith, it is not in the honoured, but in the honourer, and not in words of praise, and gestures of reverence, which may be presented in hypocrisie, or with derision, but in the opinion of the head, and affection of the heart: and who can certainely tell, what men thinke of him, how their hearts are disposed towards him, and if he know them (for the present) to be such towards him, as he desired, how fickle are mens fancies and favours, how soone changed from reverence to contempt?

He hath read but little, who hath not met with many instan­ces of this kind, in sacred histories and profane, and observed little (if not very young) if he have not noted some, in the ex­perience of his owne time; besides, who knowes not, that many men have been honoured with eminent Titles and Offi­ces, for that, for which such as are truely worthy (in whose acceptation is the truest and surest honour) have abhorred them; and if they have beene conferred, as the reward of ver­tuous persons, (and so they should be, or they are misplaced) how much envy watcheth over them, to find some meanes to bring them under, and how potent that quick-sighted, and sharp fanged Malignity is, we may guesse by the question of Solomon, Who is able to stand before Envy? Prov. 27.4.

If any man say, this may be the condition of subordinate Ho­nour, as of the Favourites of Kings, but that which is supreme is so excellent, that as some have said (with as much cruelty as va­nity) that for a Kingdome they would wade up to the chin in blood, I answer.

First, That, were the Honour of a King as permanent as eminent, yet what we have said before may be of use and force (as we propounded it) to us, for how few Kings are there in the world? and who among many millions of men so mad, as to hope he shall be a King?

Secondly, There is not that comfort in Kingly Honour which most conceive: for many times their Crownes (as he said that was the most antient and learned King Iames. King of that age wherein he lived) are lined with Thornes, (as allied to [Page 33]that on our Saviours head) and some have said, that if the Ambitious did but know, what stinging cares and feares ac­company a Crowne, they would not if it were laid at their feete, stoope downe to take it up.

And for those that accompt themselves most puissant and re­nowned of their ranke, who are Conquerours as well as Kings (though an hereditary or elective right of Regality be better then a title by conquest, for that for the most part it is no better then royall Robbery, and that is so much the worse, as greatnesse of power is more obliged to the doing of Justice, and the defence of the innocent from violent oppression) even they may have many times much lesse honour then power, and may be ceremoniously reverenced, and heartily hated and con­temned.

And how great a contempt came upon that Alexander. great Con­querour, when (his life vanished away like a vapour) after his death, he fell short of the credit of a common beggat, which is to have the deformities of his dead carcasse covered and hid out of sight, by a decent sepulture, for he lay unburied Aelian. var. hist. l 12. c. 64. 30. dayes together: his conquests (how farre soever they prevailed above ground) it seemeth they purchased him no title for habitation under-ground: And our first William (surnamed the Conqueror) was in his last condition like un­to him, the vapour of his life, vanishing (like an unsavoury snuffe) in the socket, left his body likely (for want of re­sting place among the dead) to be an offensive spectacle to the living: for after divers disappointments, it was (not without much contestation mingled with reproach of his Royalty) in­terred.

And how might it humble the mightiest Monarchs, and take off their too pleasing apprehensions of their owne pre­eminence (if flatterers would give them leave) to thinke, that their lives, (as they are men,) which are the basis to beare up their Honours, (as they are Kings) are but vani­shing vapours, for though their Pardons be Antidotes against the killing letter of the Law, to their delinquent Subjects, they are no lesse subject to death, (as we have observed before) then the meanest peasant in all their dominions. And then [Page 34]must their Honour be laid in the dust, and he that could rec­kon 127. Provinces under his command (as Esth. c. 1. v. 1. Ashuerus did) must have all that compasse so shrunck up into such a Senech­doche of a part for the whole (as to himselfe) that for many thousands of miles in all manner of dimensions, he shall have but about 7. foote sepulture for his part, and that not as a pos­session, but as a prison, and withall so strait that he can neither stir in it, nor get out of it.

But that which most blemisheth and indeed blasteth the Honour of Royall Majesty, is that the corruption of their na­ture is not kept downe, either by Lawes or reproofes, but ra­ther cherished, and increased by flattery, which makes Prin­ces so much to mind their dignity, and authority as (many times) to forget their humanity, yea so farre to forget it as to lend a willing care, to such out-lashing tongues, as lift them up above the Angells, whom God therefore in just indignation and disdaine of their pride, makes inferiour to wormes.

Was not that the condition of Herods degradation, Act. 12. 22.23 Who (when he was arrayed in rich apparell, which by re­fraction of the Sunne beames lighting upon it, gave a most glorious splendour as Josephus observeth,) made an eloquent speech, and was cryed up for it, above the skies, by popular applause and acclamation, (as speaking with the voice of God and not of man) and so became guilty of a sacrilegious thest of the divine honour, (as the receiver is partaker of guilt with the Thiefe) because he did not restore God his right, and give him the glory, wherefore he was sodainely smitten dead, by the Angell of the Lord, and presently eaten up by wormes, Act. 12.22, 23.

The Papists will tell us, there is an honour above all this, and that is that of their High-Priest, and Prelate of Rome, who is got so high above the heads of Kings and Emperours, as to have their Crownes come under his feete, but they can­not tell us, that their life is more certaine then a vapour, which vanisheth so much the sooner, as they are commonly more stricken in yeares, before they obtaine the Papall Crowne, and how fraile a thing is that honour which is built on a va­pour, [Page 35]we have in part been taught already, in the Example of Pope Adrian the fourth choaked with a Fly, and another of that Name, (it was Hadrianus sextus hic situs est, qui nihil si­bi infaelicius in vita, quam quod imperaret dux­it, Onuphrius in vita Hadr. 6. pag. 360 col. 1. Adrian the 6th.) was so farre from fin­ding a felicity in the honour and power of the Papacie, that he professed (and it was made the Epitaph upon his Tombe) That nothing had befallen him more unhappily in all his life, then that he had worne the Triple Crowne, and he might have very good cause to say so, and so might all the rest of the purple Robe, since the papall condition is as Pope Manu men­sam percutiens, dixit non video quo nodo qui locum [...]u [...]c al­tissi num tenent, salv [...]r [...] po [...]nt, Oaupnt to vi­ta Macel. [...]. pag. 398. col. 2. Marcellus the se­cond thought of it, uncapeable of salvation.

I may not now note the contempt of that Antichristian Caiphas, as he is that man of sinne and sonne of perdition, who (as such an one) is so odious to all true beleeving religious Chri­stians, that nothing is held more contemptible then to hold communion with him, in that wherein he hath departed from communion with Christ, and his Apostles. The prosecu­tion of that point is fitter for another time then now, another Text then this.

Thirdly, for Pleasure, what voluptuous Epicure would so dote upon the delights of this life, (as many doe) who mind no­thing else, or them so much, that it is very evident they are of their number (whom the Apostle sets downe as the last and worst of that catalogue of wickednesse in the last dayes,) viz. Lovers of pleasures more then lovers of God, 2 Tim. 3.4. and how could they be so fond and foolish in their choice, and spend so much of that little, and uncertaine time they have, upon vaine and many (doubtlesse) vile and base pleasures, with such vehemency of affection, as to take it for a penance to them, to bestow one day in sad, and sober consideration of the weightiest matters, that concerne their eternall welfare? how could they let loose the reynes of their lusts, and drive them on, in the furious pace of Jehu, and powre them out, (as they doe) upon all objects of sensuall satisfaction, if they did think, that they were as uncertaine as their lives, and their lives but like the vapour, which from the pipe they puffe out of their mouthes and noses.

Alas how little roome, and spare time is here, for so many meetings, for feasting, for drinking, dauncing, for gaming, [Page 36]and other prodigall expences of pretious time? which if they knew what it were worth, they would rather rob their eyes of sleepe, that they might watch and pray in the night, then ryot and revell out their dayes, and sometimes their nights too, in sensuall pastimes, wherein their life may vanish like a va­pour, and they (taken away in the very act of some sensualty) A [...] Gall [...]s and Ae [...]berius forementioned may passe from transient pleasure, to permanent paine, which will be so much more grievous to them, as they have beene more addicted to carnall delights, shewing themselves lovers of pleasures more then of God; 2 Tim. 3.4. wheras if they had loved God, more then their pleasures, they might have enjoyed God and pleasures too, not while a vapour appeareth, which will quickly vanish away, but for ever, for in his presence is the fulnesse of joy, and at his right hand are pleasures for evermore, Psal. 16. v. 12.

The fifth Use of this vaine and vapour-like life of ours, is to be a prop to our patience, and so a cure of those unpleasing pas­sions, of Anger, Envy and sorrow, which (as I have shewed be­fore) doe by their excesses much shorten mans life.

To the two first, we may apply that of David, Fret not thy selfe because of evill doers, nor be thou envious against the workers of iniquity, and the reason is, because their time is but short, they shall be soone out downe like grasse, and wither like the greene herbe, Psal. 37. v. 72. And that though it be greene to day, may be dried up to morrow (as our Saviour Christ ma­keth the comparison) Luk. 12.38. and if their prosperity last somewhat longer, (as some vapours vanish not so soone as others) what cause to be angry or envious for that? when they cannot have assurance to hold out untill the next houre.

If they thinke of the brevity and uncertainty of their time, they will not be overjoyed in their owne estate, if it were much better and longer then it is, since their holding on from day to day, is but a daily reprieve from that, which every day may come upon them. And if they thinke their death farre off, it will make neverthelesse hast, but much the worse speed, for none dieth more unhappily, then he that thinkes himselfe hap­py while he is here, and thinks not (how soon) by death he may be snatcht away hence.

[Page 37]And for the third, it may much conduce to compose us to patience against excessive sorrow under our crosses, whether they be such as affect us with pain of sense or of losse. For the former sort, when they are sharpe, we may the better beare them, upon this consideration, that what is usually violent is seldome permanent, and that while life it selfe is so short, as a vanishing vapour, aggrievances cannot be long, for death is an end of them, as well as of us, of us, as well as of our decea­sed friends, the losse of whom, (though the greatest tempo­rall losse that can be, for a true friend is as ones own soul, Deut. 3.6. and a mans soule is more worth then a whole world, Mar. 8.36.) may the better be born upon the consideration of our uncertain and vanishing condition.

It may make much for the moderation of our griefe, to thinke how little distance there may be betweene our friends funerall and our owne, if God have taken them away, it may be we have lost but a little of our enjoyment of their good company, for if they be dead to day we may follow them and over-take them to morrow, and our vapour of life cannot sooner vanish away, then our soules may finish their voyage, to the habitation of everlasting happinesse, though (as some make the measure) the distance from earth to the heaven be 500. yeares journy (were it to be measured after the manner of ordinary travile) which is a great way, on this side, the rest of the righteous.

We should not then thinke the losse so great, as if we had a long lease of our owne lives after theirs are expired, and a cer­taine one too (as it was to Hezekiah) for 15. yeares reprieve from death after the sentence of death had passed upon him; and if we take off the conceipt of our owne continuance, whereof the greatest part is haply passed already, we shall be disposed to more patience at parting, with those who are most deare unto us, who when they are dead, can receive no good by our sorrowfull excesses, for as humane Moralists can tell us (it is pitty (by the way) that Christians should need to learne moderation of Heathens) Parcamus la­thrymis nihil proficientibus, faciliùs enim illinos dolor iste adjiciet, quam illum no­bis reducet. Sen. consolat ad Po­lyb. c. 23. p. 18. Immoderate griefe will send the living to the dead and not restore the dead to the li­ving.

[Page 38]Now to draw to a Conclusion of that which will conclude us all in a narrow roome, and it may doe it in a very short time, if our life (as S. James saith) and we have shewed at large, be but as a Vapour which may evaporate, and vanish in a moment, let us have the meditation of death so much in our minds, that we may in our serious thoughts, anticipate the pace of it, though it be speedy, and be prepared to meet with it at every step, whether within doores or without, in all we doe, whether we eat or drinke, or worke or rest, let us still make account, we are upon our last minute, our lives being as uncertaine, as a candle carried in the wind without a lanterne, which may be put out with every blast: This consideration with the love of God, and feare of hell, will keepe us upright in our walke towards heaven, whither I would now by pray­er commend you and dismisse you, but that I suppose you ex­pect some Comment upon that darke and dumbe Text before you, and if custome did not call for it (as a matter of conveni­ency) conscience and friendship would claime it (as a part of duty) from me towards this worthy Gentleman deceased: I yoke them both together, Conscience and Friendship, for friend­ship shall not engage me (if I know it) to goe one step be­yond the limits, to which conscience doth confine me, though my words were of so much weight (with all that heare me) as not only to redeeme my friend (either living or dead) from an infamous report, but to advance him to the high reputati­on of a Canonized Saint. If both the warrant of Canonization of the Saint (as it is) and the honour were not Apocriphall, and papally presumptuous, not idolatrous, as the Romanists make it.

And I thinke I may speake the more confidently of him, be­cause I have known him of a child, and his Progenitours both, before they were known to one another.

In his minority, those that were conversant with him, saw faire buds, hopefully promising ripe fruit of a good relish, when (by his yeares) it might be seasonably looked for from him: and these hopes daily grew up to degrees of further evidence; and assurance of his ingenuity, temperance, mildnesse, mode­sty, humility, affability, and such a sweetnesse of temper, in [Page 39]his whole behaviour (adorning all he did) that he that knew him, and did not love him, might be thought rather to bewray a disposition in himself, unworthy to be believed, then any thing worthy to be disliked in him.

These vertues were but the ground-work, of those religious graces, for obtainment whereof, his naturall propension was happily seconded, by godly education, and thereof a princi­pall part was to fixe and settle him in a firme beliefe, of the true Protestant Religion, in opposition to Popery, prevailing in those parts (and in the parts adjacent In Tanworth Parish in War­wick shiere. where his much ho­noured Parents dwell) who were most zealous and constant Anti-papists, though living even among that crooked and per­verse generation.

Being (by Gods blessing upon his godly breeding) habitu­ated to a dislike of that erroneous Religion, and of all manner of vicious conversation, especially of vain swearing and super­fluous drinking, from this goodnesse he digressed not, no, not so much, as to let out a word of the one, or to let in a draught of the other, though (when he was an Academicall Student) he sometimes conversed with such of his age and ranke, as were no Precisians in either, and had both liberty and mainte­nance (as much as they) which had he not been very well disposed in his affections, and well composed in his car­riage, might have induced him to some licentious excee­dings.

When some further approaches of youth, towards man­hood, and a fit opportunity for travell into forraigne parts, concurred, he might be the better trusted abroad (yea even a­mong those to whom least trust is to bee committed, of whom least truth to bee expected (the Jesuites) and upon consultation with those, who could give best advice for such a course, and by his Parents appointment (to whose commands or minds (which way soever intimated to him) he was an obsequious sonne) being sent beyond sea, he spent some yeares in forraigne parts, as farre as Rome, making such observations of persons, things and places, as might make him most sorviceable to his King and Country, so soone as gra­vity of year as, had overtaken the maturity of his parts, to put them to imployment.

[Page 40]And herein surely himselfe first, and then his friends (who had most interest in him) had very good cause to blesse God for him, in that he left none of his owne goodnesse behind him where he sojourned, nor brought any of the drosse of other Nations home with him, as many, if not most young Gentle­men have unhappily done, and this I could not but often ob­serve, and alwayes approve of (as worthy of praise) that he well knew and observed the season and proportion of speech, which he ordered so, as to keep it rather below his own know­ledge then to raise it above the beliefe of those that heard him: so farre was he from their opinion, who take it for the pri­viledge of a traveller, to speake rather that which is strange then true, because they that heare them speake cannot prove they lie.

And in this as in many other gracefull qualifications he much resembled, that very accomplish't Gentleman S ^r. T. P. (his mothers Vncle) whom I much honoured in Person, while he was living (for his many good parts in himselfe, and his favourable respect unto me) and (while I live) shall upon all good occasions, revive his memory, by honourable mention, now he is dead: In whose death his Country sustained a very great losse, which might have bin (if not wholly recovered, yet) very much repaired in the sufficiency, and service of this young Gentleman, if God had been pleased, to permit the bringing on of his abilities, to their perfect accomplish­ment.

But he fixed a period there, where we made account but of a comma or colon at the most, hoping halfe the sentence of his life at least, was yet behind, and should not have been inter­rupted or broken off, in such hast as it was, and we grounded our hopes, on some precedent proofs of the divine providence, which had conducted him safely through manifold dangers, both by land and sea, by which thousands have perished, ei­ther in their progresse from home, or their home-ward re­turne; and it may seeme somewhat strange, that he that was so charily preserved (among so many perils) should In London. there miscarry, whither so many come (as to a City of refuge) for more assurance of safety. It fell out much what so with Saty­rus [Page 41](the brother of S. Ambrose de obitu fratris. Tom. 3. p. 16. Ambrose) who returned from Af­fricke (by a very perillous passage (for he suffered ship-wrack and escaped drowning by swimming) within a while after his arrivall and returne to his friends, fell sicke and dyed among them.

And why was it thus good Lord? Why so as with this in­genuous and pious Gentleman it hath hapned? Was it because thou ratest not age Non est quod propter rugas, & canos putes diù vixisse. Seneca de vita beata, cap 1., by wrinckles and gray hairs, but by ripe­nesse in vertue, and fitnesse for Heaven? Or was it to shew that thou canst secure whom thou pleasest in the greatest perill, and that there is no security in recesse or retirement, but in thy protection only?

Or didst thou take him away, to take off humane confidence (especially of young Gallants of his time, and state) and to a­bate of the pride of their fresh and flourishing youth, shewing them (in him) that their life and strength, and beauty is but a vanishing vapour? Or knowing our Land is now more tempestuous then the raging Sea (and perhaps the Tempest is not yet at the highest) Didst thou snatch him away, in thy favour to him, to set him in a safe harbour, in a place of impregnable strength and security, where he might nei­ther feele, nor feare any danger, were the storme never so vio­lent?

Whatsoever it was that hath deprived us (who survive him) of such a sweet associate of life, and so a fair patterne of vertue (the reason may be secret to us, but unjust as from thee it cannot be) sure we are he is thine, and thou maist take thine owne to thy selfe when thou wilt: And if thou wouldest ra­ther put him into present possession of Co-heyreship, with thy Sonne, then reserve him on earth to the expectation of the inheritance of his Father (though he were none of those sons, who are sicke of the Father) thy gracious dealing with him, and his glory with thee, should make us rather rejoyce for his gaine, then mourne for our losse, at least, meekly to submit to thy divine disposall, even unto death, especially when it is the conclusion of a godly life, and the introduction of a glori­ous state, which I doubt not to be the condition of his depar­ture from the society of men.

[Page 42]By what manner of death God was pleased to translate him to a better life, is not (for the thing it selfe) much materiall to enquire, no more then in what vessell, a man hath bin waf­ted over the waves of the Sea, when he is safely received into the Haven, or by what key (whether of gold or iron) he was let into a place of most pleasant repose. Yet since it may be the desire of divers, to be informed in it, and all may, and some I assure my selfe will be the better for it, I take it to be a part of my present service to give you thereof and of some other re­markable matters, such an account, as though it be of sicknesse, death, and distemper of body and mind, may be tempered into a saving receipt, for the upholding of your spirituall health, and consequently for the obtainment of eternall life, which may be this.

He was by his complection (as I take it) naturally san­guine, accidentally melancholy. In this Temperament he was taken with a disease, that hath a name of diminution, The Small-Pox, which Spider-like hath a venome more intensive in degree, then extensive in measure, and which (as experience makes the observation) is commonly a fore-runner of a great plague.

Being in conflict with this disease, and nature partly suspen­ded (by the sadnesse and slownesse of Melancholy) it was not strong and quick enough, to expell the poyson to the outward parts, upon which (in the most hopefull working of the dis­ease) it should have been discharged: The same usurping hu­mour (for the right of predominance (in his constitution) was in that which was naturall) which slackned the pace, and operation of nature, was too active of it's selfe in troubling the fancy.

Hence, and from some malicious and fubtle concurrence of Satan (taking the advantage which the malady of his body and brain, then ministred unto him) his tongue was wrought to beare false witnes against Gods favour, and his own welfare, so farre as to utter some words favouring of distrust, if not of de­spaire of his own salvation.

Now that we may not mistake those words, as he did his State, and thence infer some suspition of his safety, it concerns [Page 43]us to take into serious consideration these particulars, which may serve not only to right his reputation among the commu­nion of Saints, but to secure our own spirituall peace against the like perturbations.

It hath been usually a part of the Devils spight, and pollicy to assault those most, in their sicknesse, whom he could least prevaile with, in their health, and to presse upon them with most importunity, when he thinkes he hath but a little time, to do a great deale of mischief. Therfore his malevolence being the motive to his diligence, he hath great wrath, because he knoweth he hath but a short time, Rev. 12.12.

And there is not only proofe of it in divinity, but reason for it in Philosophy from this maxime, Naturall motion is more swift and violent towards the end of it; now temptation is a tran­sient motion, and since his change from an Angell to a Devill, as naturall to him as for heavy things to fall downwards, ther­fore when it draweth nearer the end, either his owne end, or the parties whom he desires for a prey, he will not creepe like a Serpent to deceive, but rush in like a Lion to devoure, and thence it is, that the wicked many times die quietly, like lambes, whereas the godly are put to many sharpe violent con­flicts with him, both in life and death: for it is with the one fort, according to the saying of our blessed Saviour, Luk. 11.21. The strong man armed keepeth the honse, and so all is at peace. But for the other he stormeth out-ragiously to disturbe his peace, because he is kept out of possession, and the more haply, because he hath little hope to possesse so glorious a prize: so that his fiercenesse is many times the effect of his foyle, as (in the 12. of the Revelation) when he was disappointed of his prey, of the woman that brought forth a man child (she being carried by the wings of an Eagle out of his reach, Rev. 12.14.) he cast out of his mouth a flood of water after her, ver. 15. And when the Earth swallowed up the flood, wherby he meant to have swallowed up both her and her child, he was wrath with the woman, ver. 16, 17. because he could not satisfie his rage with their ruine.

Secondly, for further attestation of the godly's troubles, doubts and feares of the favour of God, somtimes with-holding [Page 44]his gracious countenance from them, as if he did not meane to be mercifull to them) we may produce as witnesses unto it, the examples of two most renowned whether for Religi­on towards God, or acceptation with God, Job and Da­vid.

First, for Job, how deplorable and desperate did his conditi­on appeare to be, when he said, The Arrowes of the Almighty are within me, the poyson thereof drinketh up my spirit, the terrors of God set themselves in array against me, Job 6.4. and at the 16. Chapter, I was at ease (saith he) but he broke me asunder, he hath also taken me by the necke, and shaken me in peeces, and set me up for his marke, his Archers compasse me round about, he cleaveth my reines asunder, and doth not spare, he powreth out my gall upon the ground, he breaketh me with breach upon breach, and runneth up­on me like a Gyant, Cha. 16. ver. 12, 13, 14.

What a tempest of temptation to distrust and despaire, doe these patheticall speeches import, and his deeds evidenced a desperate distraction as well as his words, when (as in a fit of spirituall frenzy) He tooke his flesh into his teeth, Chap. 13.14.

Secondly, for David, how fearfull was his distraction, how full of distrust was he, when he thus complained, My heart is sore pained within me, fearfulnesse and trembling are come upon me, and horrour hath overwhelmed me, Psal. 55.4, 5. in the 77 ^th. Psalme (whether it were a Psalme of Asaph, as the composer of the Ditty, for he was a Seer or Prophet, and an inditer of Psalmes, 2 Chron. 29.30. or a Psalme for Asaph, as a Musition to set it into Tune, or to sing it, as the Title may be varied) The Psamist there sheweth, that himselfe had been under a black­cloud, which ecclipsed the sight of Gods mercy from him, when he passionately put forth such expostulations as these: Will the Lord cast off for ever, and will he be favourable no more? Is his mercy cleane gone for ever, and doth his promise faile for evermore? hath God forgotten to be gracious, hath hee in anger shut up his tender mercies? vers. 7, 8, 9.

Of latter times, there are divers instances of very religious Christians, among whom have been some worthy Divines, who (for a time) have had their Faith so fearfully shaken, [Page 45]as if it were ready to be pluckt up by the rootes, as Luther that invincible Antagonist against the great Antichrist, who (after his conversion) lay three dayes in desperation, as M. M. Perkins of spirituall de­sertion, vol. 1. pag. 417. Perkins remembreth in his Booke of Spirituall Desertion.

Where also he makes mention of one M. Chambers, who died in despaire, saying he was damned, Yet (saith that ju­dicious Divine) it is not for any to note him, with the black marke of a Reprobate, for one thing (saith he,) hee spake in ex­tremity, which must move all men to conceive well of him, which was, O that I had but one drop of Faith; for by this it seemes be had a heart to repent and believe, and therefore a penitent and be­lieving heart indeed, so far he, and which may be an instance of much more moment, to fence our hearts against finall despaire, and to suspend our censures of others salvation, when they seem as lost, and forsaken by their heavenly Father; We have it up­on Evangelicall record, that our Saviour on the Crosse cryed, O God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me? Mat. 27.46, Such words he uttered as man, when as God (as agood Habes in con­querente reli­clum se esse, quia homo est, habes eundem profitentem La­troni, in Para­diso regnatu­rum, quia Deus est. Hilar. Can. 33. in Math. Father ob­serveth) hee promised Paradise to the converted Thiefe, Luk. 23.43.

Thirdly, Had this young Gentleman died, before he had been delivered from his fearfull distrust, I should have impu­ted those passionate words (which he uttered) not to the disposition of his heart, but to the distemper of his head.

And in his head, rather to the lightnesse of his fancy (which is most easily both moved, and misled, and which with me­mory and common sense, is familiar and common to man­kind with the beasts of the field) then to his understanding, wherein man partaketh with the excellency of the Angells, and should have made my conjecture of his death, by the an­tecedents of his life, (in the state of health) which were such as if he had taken S. Paul's practice for his patterne, which was so to exercise himselfe as to have alwayes a conscience void of offence, towards God and man, Act. 24.16. And such a life (as Non potest male mori qui­bene vixerit, audeo dicere non potest malè mo­ri qui bone vix­erit. Aug. in­operib Tom. 9. de disciplin. cap. 2. Augustine or some other antient Writer under his Name sheweth,) can never end in a wretched death. He that lived well cannot dye ill, I dare say (saith he againe) he that hath lived well cannot dye ill.

[Page 46]Fourthly, But that we should make no more doubt, of his happy death then of his holy life, God gave him a glorious victory over his violent enemy (as to Luther in the place foremen­tioned. M. Iohn Glover Act. and Monum. vol 3. pag. 423. col. 2. Mistris Kath: Bre­tergh. See the Book: of her life and death. pag. 12, 13, &c. printed. 1617. M Peacock Fellow of Bra­zen-nose Col­ledge Oxford, pag. 25, &c. Printed, 1641. divers others of his deare children) for he gave him not only a just apprehen­sion of those wild words which (recalled to his remem­brance when his passion was becalmed) had escaped his lipps, but withall such a detestation of them, as to account them a rebellion against the promised mercies of Christ, and such a resolution against them, that (in most emphaticall manner) he professed, I will never rebell against thee my God any more, Never, Never, Never, and being conscious to him­self that this retractation of his was cordially sincere, he said of it, with like affectionate expressions, Was there ever such con­trition? and so having recovered his comfort, and resolved for death, (with assured hope of everlasting life) within a little while after he gave up the ghost.

What now remaineth, but that his soule received by God his heavenly Father, his body be committed to his earthly Mo­ther, and the example of his life laid up, as a Legacy for those that survive him, especially for young Gentlemen, and great Heyres (as he was) that whether they live to possesse, the Inheritance of their Fathers below or not, they may (when they dye) inherit the Kingdome prepared from the founda­tion of the world: for which Kingdome good Lord we pray thee, daily to prepare us, and in thy good time bring us unto it, for thy deare Sonne Jesus Christ his sake, Amen.