that ever he hath had the Evils he hath suffered to get them and having got them to retain and keep them I speak of Pleasures that may be kept and not of those that wither in a moment he will soon judge that keeping it self of the greatest Felicity in this World is full of Unhappiness and Infelicity We may well conclude then That Childhood is but a foolish Simplicity Youth a vain Heat Manhood a painful Carefulness and Old Age an uneasie Languishing That our Plays are but Tears our Pleasures Fevers of the Mind our Goods Racks and Torments our Honours gilded Vanities our Rest Inquietude That passing from Age to Age is but passing from Evil to Evil and from the less unto the greater and that always it is but one Wave driving on another until we be arrived at the Haven of Death In short Life is but a wishing for the future and a bewailing of what 's past a loathing of what we have tasted and a longing for what is yet to taste a vain memory of the state past and a doubtful expectation of the state to come And to conclude In all our Life there is nothing certain but the Certainty and Uncertainty of Death And now we are come to the end of all the Living even to the House of Death Behold this King of Terrors O my Soul and see whether or no he be so terrible as he is represented It is high time methinks for Death and I to be acquainted since I expect in a very few days not to say hours to be taken into his Arms and conducted by him to the bright Mansions of Eternity Let us now consider then whether Death be such as we are generally made to believe and whether we ought to fly from him as we do We are afraid of Death like little Children of a Vizzard or of the Images of Hecate We have a horror for Death because we conceive him not such as he is but ugly terrible and hideous such as the Painters please to represent him We fly before him because prepossess'd with such vain Imaginations and care not to inform our selves better But if we dare stand and look Death in the face we shall find him quite another thing than he is represented to us and altogether of a more amiable Countenance than our miserable Life Death makes an end of this Life and this Life is nothing but a perpetual Scene of Misery and Trouble Death then is the period of our Miseries and safe Conduct into that desired Haven where we shall ride in safety from all Winds and Storms And shall we be afraid of that which delivers us from all our fears and brings us safe into the Port of Happiness But you will say It is a Pain to dye Admit it be and so there 's pain in curing of a Wound Such is the World that one Evil cann't be cur'd but by another to heal a Contusion must be made an Incision You will say There is difficulty in the passage But if this be an Objection the Mariner must always keep at Sea and not come into Port because there is no Harbour whose Entrance is not strait and difficult There is nothing of Value or Worth to be had in this World without the Coyn of Labour and Pain The Entrance may indeed be hard but then it is our selves that make it so by carrying thither self-tormenting Spirits anxious Minds accusing Consciences and fearful expectations of meeting with the just Reward of a Debauch'd and Vicious Life But let us carry with us Calmness and Serenity of Mind with the comfortable remembrance of a Vertuous and well-spent Life and the lively hope and expectation of approaching Happiness and we shall find no Danger nor Difficulty at all But what are the pains that Death brings us And why should Death be charg'd with those pains we feel when we come to dye We accuse Death of all the Evils we suffer in ending our Lives and consider not how many more grievous and cruciating Pains and Sicknesses we have suffered in this Life in which we have even call'd upon Death to deliver us and yet all the Pains of our Life to our last moment we impute to Death whereas it ought to be ascrib'd to Life for 't is but reasonable to believe that a Life begun and continued in all sorts of pain must of necessity end so And therefore 't is only the remainder of our Life that pains us and not Death the end of our Navigation that troubles us and not the Haven that we are to enter which is nothing else but a Safeguard against all Winds We complain of Death when we should complain of Life just as if one that had been long sick and beginning to be well should accuse his Health of his last Pains and not the Relicks of his Disease Tell me then what is it else to be dead but to be no more living in the World And is it any pain not to be in the World Did we then feel pain when as yet we were not Have we ever more resemblance of Death than when we are asleep Or ever more rest than at that time Now if this be no pain why accuse we Death of the Pains our Life gives us at our departure Unless also we will fondly accuse the Time wherein we were not of the pains we felt at our Birth If our coming in be with Tears what wonder is it that our going out be such If the beginning of our being be the beginning of our pain no marvel that such is the ending But if our not being in times past hath been without pain and all our being here full of pain whom ought we in reason to accuse of our last pains the not-being to come or the remnant of the present being We generally think we dye not until we fetch our last gasp but if we mind it well we shall find that we dye every day every hour every moment We apprehend Death as a thing unusual to us and yet have nothing so common in us Our Living is but a continual Dying and look how much we live so much we dye how much we increase our Life decreases We cannot enter a step into Life but we are upon the borders of Death Who has lived a third part of his years is a third part dead who half his years is already half dead Of our Life all the time past is dead the present lives and dies at once and the future likewise shall dye The past time of our Lives is no more the future is not yet the present is and no more is Briefly This whole Life is but a Death It is as a Candle lighted in our Bodies In one the Wind makes it melt away in another it blows it quite out many times ere it be half burned in others it endures to the end Howsoever it be look how much the Candle shines so much it burns for its shining is its burning Its Light
is but a vanishing Smoak and its last Fire but its last Wick and its last drop of moisture So is it in the Life of Man Life and Death in Man is all one If we call the last breath by the name of Death so we must all the rest all proceeding from one place and all in the same manner One only difference there is between this Life and that which we call death That during the one we are always dying but after the other we shall always live In short As he that thinketh Death simply to be the End of Man ought not to fear it inasmuch as he who desires to live long desires to dye longer and so he who fears to dye quickly does to speak properly fear least he may not dye longer But to us who profess the Christian Religion and are brought up in a more holy School Death is a far other thing neither do we need as heretofore the Pagans did Consolations against Death For Death it self ought to be to us a Consolation against other Afflictions So that we must not only strengthen our selves as they did not to fear it but we ought also to hope it For unto us it is not only a departing from Pain and Evil but an Access unto all Good not the end of Life but the end of Death and Pain and Sorrow and the beginning of a Life that shall never have an end Better saith Solomon is the Day of Death than the Day of Birth But for what Reason Why because it is not to us a Last Day but the Dawning of an Everlasting Day No more shall we have in that glorious Light either Sorrow for the past or Expectation for the future for all shall be there present to us and that Present shall be present for ever No more shall we spend our strength in seeking after vain and painful Pleasures for there we shall be fill'd with true and substantial Delights No more shall we weary our selves in heaping together these shining Exhalations of the Earth for the inexpressible Glory of Heaven shall be ours And this Mass of Earth which ever draws us towards the Earth shall be then buried in it and consumed with it No more shall we then be Votaries to that gaudy Idol Honour nor put our Wits upon the Rack that so we may be deck'd with finer Feathers than our Neighbours Ambition will have there no place for we shall there be rais'd to that Excelling Glory and be possess'd of all those Heighths of Greatness that we shall look with scorn and with contempt upon an Earthly Diadem and smile at all the Follies of poor groveling Mortals who fight and quarrel with each other for a small spot of Earth like Children for an Apple And which is better still no more shall we have Combats in our selves Our sinful Flesh that here was our worst Enemy shall cease from troubling there and our renewed Spirits shall be fill'd with Life and Vigour Our Passion shall be buried and our Reason be restor'd to perfect Liberty The Soul deliver'd out of this foul and filthy Prison where by its long continuing it is grown into a habit of Crookedness shall again draw its own breath recognize its Ancient Dwelling and again remember its former Glory and Dignity This Flesh which thou feelest this Body which thou touchest is not Man Man is a Spark of the Divinity shot down from Heaven Heaven is his Countrey and his Native Air That he is in this Body is but by way of Exile and Confinement Man indeed is Soul and Spirit and is of a Divine and Heavenly Quality wherein there 's nothing gross nothing material This Body such as now it is is but the Bark and Shell of the Soul which must necessarily be broke before we can be hatch'd before we can live and see the Light We have it seems some Life and some Sence in us but are so very crooked and contracted that we cannot so much as stretch out our Wings much less take our flight towards Heaven until we be disburthen'd and separated from this Lump of Earth We look but 't is through false Spectacles We have Eyes but they are over-grown with Pearls We think we see but 't is but in a Dream wherein all that we see is nothing but a vain Illusion All that we seem to have and all that we seem to know is but Deceit and Vanity Death only can awake us from our Dream and restore us to true Life and Light and yet we think so blockish are we that he comes to rob us of them We profess our selves Christians and that we believe after this mortal Life a Life of Immortality That Death is nothing but a separation of the Soul and Body and that the Soul returns to its former happy abode there to joy in and enjoy the Fountain of all Bliss and that at the last day it shall re-assume its Body which shall no more be subject to Corruption With these goodly Discousses we fill our Books and in the mean while when it comes to to the point and that we are ready to enter in at this Portcullis of Seraphical Glory the very Name of Death as of some dreadful Gorgon makes us quake and tremble If we believe as we speak pray what is it that we fear To be happy To be perfectly at ease To enjoy more Content in one moment than ever was enjoy'd even by Methuselah himself in all his Nine hundred sixty nine years which was the longest mortal Life I ever read of If this be nothing that we fear then we must of necessity confess that we believe it but in part that all that we have said are only words that all our Discourses as of those hardy Trencher Knights are nothing but Vaunting and Vanity Some there are that will confidently tell you I know very well that I shall pass out of this Life into a better I make no doubt of that only I fear the mid-way step Weak Hearted Creatures They will kill themselves to get their miserable living They willingly suffer almost infinite pains and infinite wounds at another Mans pleasure and fearless go throw infinite deaths without dying and all this for things of nought for things that perish and that oft times causes them to perish with them But when they have but one step to make to be at Rest and that not for a day but for ever And not barely Rest but a Rest of that exalted Nature that Mans natural Mind can never comprehend They tremble their Hearts fail them they are afraid and yet it is nothing but fear that hurts them Let them never tell me they apprehend the pain It is but an abuse on purpose to conceal the little Faith they have No no they would rather languish of the Gout the Sciatica or any Disease whatsoever than dye one sweet Death with the least pain possible Rather piningly dye Limb after Limb out-living as it were all their Sences Motions
and Actions than speedily Dye tho' immediatly to Live for ever Let them tell me no more that they would in this World learn to Live For every one is thereunto sufficiently instructed in himself and not one but is cunning in the Trade Nay rather they should learn in this World to Dye and that they may once Dye well to Dye daily in themselves so prepared as if the end of every days Work were the end of our Life Now contrariwise there is nothing to their Ears more offensive than to hear of Death Senseless People We abandon our Life to the ordinary hazzards of War for Six Pence a Day and are foremost in Assaults for a little Booty go into Places whence there is no hope of returning with danger many times both of Bodies and Souls But to free us from all Hazzards to win the precious Prize of things Inestimable to enter into Eternal Life we Faint in the passage of one Pace wherein is no Difficulty but in Opinion Yea we so Faint that were it not of necessity that we must pass and that Gods ordination that all must dye compells us hardly should we find in all the World one how unhappy or wretched soever that would ever shoot that Gulph Another will say had I liv'd till Fifty or Sixty Years I should have been Contented I should not have car'd to live longer But to dye so Young is that which troubles me I would willingly have known the World before I had left it Simple Soul In this World there is neither Young nor Old The longest Age in comparison of all that is past or all that is to come is nothing And when thou hast liv'd to the Age thou now desirest all that is past will be nothing Thou wilt still gape for that which is to come The past will yield thee but Sorrow the future but Expectation the present no Contentment And thou wilt be as unwilling to Dye then as ever thou was 't Thou fliest thy Creditor from Mouth to Month and Time to Time as unwilling to pay the last day as the first Thou seekest but to be acquitted Thou hast tasted all which the World esteemeth Pleasures Not one of them is new unto thee By drinking oftener thou shalt be never a whit the more satisfied For the Body thou carriest like the Paile of Danaus Daughter which was bored full of holes will never be full Thou mayst sooner wear it out than weary thy self with using or rather abusing it Thou desirest long Life to cast it away to spend it on worthless Delights to mis-spend it on Vanities Thou art Covetous in desiring and Prodigal in spending Say not thou findest fault with the Court or the Palace But that thou desirest longer to serve the Common-Wealth to serve thy Country to serve God He that set thee on Work knows until what Day and what Hour thou shouldest be at it He well knows how to direct his Work Should he leave thee there longer perhaps thou wouldest spoil all But if he will pay thee liberally for thy Labour as much for half a days Work as for a whole As much for having wrought till noon as for having born all the heat of the day Oughtest thou not so much the more to Thank and Praise him But if thou examin thine own Conscience thou lamentest not the cause of the Widow and the Orphan which thou hast left depending in judgment Not the Duty of a Son of a father or of a Friend which thou pretendest thou wouldest perform Not the Ambassage for the Common-Wealth which thou wert ever ready to undertake Not the Service thou desirest to do unto God who knows much better how to serve himself of thee than thou of thy self It is thy Houses and Gardens thou lamentest thy imperfect Plots and purposes and thy Imperfect Life which yet no Days nor Years nor Ages can make Perfect altho' thy self might'st do it in a moment could'st thou but think in earnest that where or when it ends it matters not provided that it ends but well Now the only way to end this Life well is to end it willingly devoting our selves with an intire Resignation to the will of GOD and not suffering our selves to be constrain'd and drawn by the force of unavoidable Destiny And then toend this Life willingly We must hope for Death not fear it To hope for Death we must certainly look after this Life for a better To look for a better Life we must fear GOD And he that truly fears GOD has nothing else he ought to fear in this World and has reason to hope for all things in the World to come To one well resolved in these Points Death must needs be sweet and agreeable Knowing that through it he is to enter into the fulness of Joy The Bitterness we may find by the straitness of the Passage will be allay'd by the Sweetness we shall find when we are enter'd in Our suffering of Ill shall be swallow'd up in the enjoyment of Good And the Sting of Death it self which is nothing but Fear shall be dead Nay I will say more He shall not only triumph over all those Evils supposed to be in Death but he shall also scorn all those Evils Men fear to meet with in this Life and look upon 'em as unconcern'd For what can he fear whose Death is his hope If you think to banish him his Country he knows he has a Country from whence you cannot banish him and that all these Countries are but Inns from which he must part in a little time If to put him in a Prison he can have none more strait than his own Body nor none more filthy or dark or more repleat of Racks and Torments Or if you think to kill him you only then compleat his hopes for Death's what he desires And for the manner of it Be it by Fire by Sword by Halter or by Ax within three years within three days within three hours it is all one to him he matters not the time nor minds the way by which he passes from this miserable Life For his Work is ended his Affairs dispatch'd and by the self-same way that he goes out he hopes to enter into a most happy and everlasting Life Men can but threaten with Death and Death is all he promiseth himself The worst that they do is but to make him dye and Death is the best thing in his account that he can hope for The Threatnings of a Tyrant to him are Promises the Swords of his greatest Enemies against him he reckons drawn in his savour forasmuch as he knows That threatening him Death they threaten him Life and the most Mortal Wounds can make him but Immortal The sum of all is He that fears GOD fears not Death and he that fears not Death fears not the worst of this Life By this reckoning perhaps some Men may say Death is a thing to be wished for And to pass from so much Evil to
other end but that Men should seek them so the World often harbors in disguised Attire among them that fly the World It is not therefore Solitude and Retirement can give us Contentment but only the subduing of our unruly Lusts and Passions Now as touching that Contentment that may be found in Solitude by wise Men in the Exercise of Reading divers Books of both Divine and Prophane Authors in order to the acquiring of Knowledge and Learning it is indeed a very commendable thing but if we will take Solomon's Judgment in the Case it is all but vanity and vexation of Spirit For some are ever learning to correct their Speech and never think of correcting their Life Others by Logical Discourses of the Art of Reason dispute many times so long till they lose thereby their Natural Reason One learns by Arithmetick to divide into the smallest Fractions and yet hath not skill to part one Shilling with his Brother Another by Geometry can measure Fields and Towns and Countries But cannot measure himself The Musitian can accord his Voices and Sounds and Times together Having nothing in his Heart but Discords nor one Passion in his Soul but what is out of tune The Astrologer looks up to the Stars and falls in the next Ditch Fore-knows the future and is careless for the present hath often his Eye on the Heavens tho' his Heart be buried in the Earth The Philosopher discourseth of the nature of all other things and yet knows not himself The Historian can tell of the Wars of Thebes and of Troy but is ignorant of what is done in his own House The Lawyer will make Laws for all the World and yet observe none himself The Physitian Cures others but languishes himself under his own Malady He can find the least alteration in his Pulse but takes no notice of the burning Feaver of his Mind Lastly the Divine will spend the greatest part of his time in disputing of Faith and yet cares not to hear of Charity Will talk of god but has no regard to succour Men. These knowledges bring on the Mind an endless labour but no contentment for the more he knows the more he desires to know They pacifie not the Debates a Man feels in himself they cure not the diseases of his Mind They make him learned but they make him not good cunning but not wise The more a Man knows the more he knows that he knows not the fuller the Mind is the emptier it finds it self Forasmuch as whatsoever a Man can know of any Science in this world is but the least part of what he is ignorant of All his knowledge consisting in knowing his ignroance all his perfection in seeing his imperfections which who best knows and notes is in truth among Men the most wise and perfect In short we must conclude with Solomon that the beginning and end of Wisdom is the fear of God yet this Wisdom nevertheless is taken by the World for meer Folly and persecuted by the World as a deadly Enemy and therefore as he that fears God ought to fear no evil for that all his evils are converted to his good So neither ought he to hope for good in the World having there the Devil his professed Enemy whom the Scripture termeth Prince of this World But with what exercise soever we pass the time old Age unawares comes upon us which never failes to find us out Every Man makes account in that Age to repose himself without further care and to keep himself at ease in health But on the contrary in this age there is nothing but an after-tast of all the foregoing evils and most commonly a plentiful harvest of all such Vices as in the whole course of their Life hath held and possessed them There you have the Imbecility and Weakness of Infancy and which is worse many times accompanied with authority There you are paid for the excess and riot of your Youth with Gouts Palsies and such like Diseases which take from you Limb after Limb with pain and torment There you are recompenc'd for the anxieties of Mind the watchings and cares of Manhood with Ioss of Sight loss of Hearing and all the Sences one after another except only the sence of Pain Not one part in us but Death takes hold of to be assured of us as of bad pay-masters which seldom keep days of payment There is nothing in us which is not visible declining except our Vices and they not only live but in despite of Nature grow young again The Covetous Man hath one Foot in his Grave and is yet burying his Money as if he had hopes to find it again another day The Ambitious in his Will provides for a pompous Funeral making his vice to triumph even after his Death The Riotous no longer able to dance on his Feet danceth with his Shoulders all Vices having left him and he not able to leave them The Child wishes for Youth and this Man laments it The Young Man lives in hope of the future and this feels the evil present laments the false pleasures past and sees for the time to come nothing to hope for And is more foolish than the Child in bewailing the time he cann't recall and remembers not the evil that he suffer'd in it and more wretched than the Young Man in that after a vicious life and not being able any longer to live he must miserably die seeing nothing round about him but matter of despair As for him that from his Youth hath undertaken to combat against the flesh and the World who hath used to mortifie himself and leave the World whilst he continues in it who besides those ordinary Evils finds himself vexed with this great and incurable Disease of Old Age and yet feels his Flesh how weak soever often stronger than his Spirit what satisfaction can he take but only in this that he sees his death is at hand that his Warfare is accomplished and that he is ready to depart by Death out of this loathsome Prison wherein he has been all along rack'd and tormented I forbear to mention the almost infinite Evils wherewith Men in all Ages are afflicted as loss of Friends and Parents Banishments Exiles Disgraces and other Accidents common and ordinary in the World one complaining of losing his Children another of having them one lamenting for his Wives Death another for her Life one finding fault that he is too high in Court and others more often that they are not high enough The World is so full of Evils that it would require a World of Time to write 'em in And if the most happy Man in the World should set his Felicities and Infelicities against each other he would see cause enough to judge himself unhappy And yet perhaps another Man might judge him happy who yet if he had been but three days in his place would give it over to him that should come next And he that shall consider in all the Goods
Master of himself pushing Time forward as it were with his shoulder that he may the sooner enjoy his hoped-for Liberty In short he desires nothing more than to see the end of this Age which he looks upon as Bondage and Slavery and enter upon the beginning of his Youth And what is the beginning of Youth but the death of Infancy And the beginning of Manhood but the death of Youth Or what is the beginning of to Morrow but the death of the present Day And thus he implicitly desires his Death and judges his Life miserable and therefore cannot be reputed in a state of Happiness or Contentment Behold him now according to his wish at Liberty in that Age wherein he has his Choice to take the way of Vertue or of Vice and either to choose Reason or Passion for his Guide His Passion entertains him with a thousand Delights prepares for him a thousand Baits and presents him with a thousand Worldly Pleasures to surprize him And these are so agreeable to headstrong and unbridled Youth that there are very few that are not taken and beguiled by them of which my own Example is too evident an Instance But when the Reckoning comes to be made up what Pleasures are they They are but vicious and polluted Pleasures which ever hold him in a restless Fever Pleasures that at the best end in Repentance and like sweet Meats are of a hard digestion Pleasures that are bought with pain and in a moment perish but leave behind a lasting Guilt and long remorse of Conscience All which I wish my own too dear Experience could not witness And yet this is the very Nature if they be well examin'd of all the Pleasures of this World There is in none so much Sweetness but there is more Bitterness none so pleasant to the Mouth but it leaves an unsavoury Gusto after it I will not speak here of the Mischiefs Quarrels Debates Wounds Murthers Banishments Sickness and other Dangers whereinto sometimes the Incontinency and sometimes the Insolency of this ill-guided Age does plunge Men for the remembrance of my own Follies upon this occasion stops my mouth and fills me with remorse and shame But if those that seem Pleasures be nothing else but Displeasures if the Sweetness thereof be as an Infusion of Wormwood what then must the Displeasure be which they feel And how great the Bitterness that they taste Behold then in short the Life of a young Man who rid of the Government of his Parents and Masters abandons himself to all the Exorbitancies of his unruly Passion which like an unclean Spirit possessing him throws him sometimes into the Water and then into the Fire sometimes carries him clear over a Rock and at other times flings him headlong to the bottom But if he follows Reason for his Guide which is much the better choice yet on this hand there are wonderful Difficulties For he must resolve to fight in every part of the Field and at every step to be in conflict as having his Enemy in front in flank and on the rear never leaving to assail him and this Enemy is all that can delight him all that he sees near or far off In short the greatest Enemy in the World is the World it self which he must therefore overcome But beside the World he has a thousand Treacherous Enemies within him among whom his Passion is none of the least which waits for an occasion to surprize him and betray him to his Lusts It is God only that can make him choose the Path of Vertue and it is God only that can keep him in it to the End and make him victorious in all his combats But alas how few they are that enter into it And of those few how many that retire again So that let a Man follow the one way or the other he must either subject himself to a Tyrannical Passion or undertake a weary and continual Combat wilfully throw himself into the Arms of Destruction or fetter himself as it were in the Stocks easily carried away with the current of the Water or painfully stemming the impetuous Tide See here the happiness of the young Man Who in his Youth having drunk his full draught of the Worlds vain and deceivable Pleasures is over-taken by them with such a dull heaviness and astonishment as Drunkards the morrow after a Debauch or Gluttons after a plentiful Feast who are so over-prest with the Excesses of the former day that the very remembrance of it creates their loathing And even he that has made the stoutest resistance feels himself so weary and with this continual Conflict so bruised and broken that he is either upon the point to yield or dye And this is all the Good all the Contentment of this flourishing Age by Children so earnestly desired and by those who have experienc'd it so heartily lamented Next cometh that which is called Perfect Age in which Men have no other thoughts but to purchase themselves Wisdom and Rest It is called perfect indeed but is herein only perfect that all Imperfections of Humane Nature hidden before under the simplicity of Childhood or the lightness of Youth appear at this Age in their Perfection I speak of none in this place but those that are esteemed the wisest and most happy in the opinion of the World I have already shewed that we play'd in fear and that our short Pleasures were attended on with long Repentance But now Avarice and Ambition present themselves to us promising if we will adore them to give us perfect Contentment with the Goods and Honours of this World And surely none but those who are restrained by a Divine Hand can escape the Illusions of the one or the other and not cast themselves headlong from the top of the Pinacle But let us see what this Contentment is The Covetous Man Makes a thousand Voyages by Sea and Journeys by Land runs a thousand hazzards escapes a thousand shipwracks and is in perpetual fear and travel and yet oftentimes either loseth his time or gains nothing but Sicknesses Gouts and Oppilations In the purchase of this goodly Repose he bestoweth his true Rest and to gain Wealth loseth his Life But suppose he hath gain'd much and that he hath spoil'd the whole East of its Pearls and drawn dry all the Mines of the West will he then be at quiet and say he is content Nothing less For by all his Acquisitions he gains but more Disquiet both of Mind and Body from one travel falling into another never ending but only changing his Miseries He desir'd to have them and now fears to lose them he got 'em with burning ardour and possesses 'em in trembling cold he adventur'd among Thieves to get them and now fears by Thieves and Robbers to be depriv'd of 'em again he labour'd to dig them out of the Earth and now to secure them he hides them therein In short coming from all his Voyages he comes into a Prison and the