a Grave Then what a Wretch is he that won't part with the World when it lies in his way to Heaven for he can neither carry it with him or use above six foot on 't when he is Dead or scarce so much for the Chimistry of Cardan Misers gripe at all the World but it slips thro' their Fingers and leaves nothing but Dust. found but six Dunces of Dust in the Ashes of a Calcin'd Body We brought nothing into this World and can carry nothing out but Worldlings ne'er consider this and therefore like Men that clasp at Spirits they catch nothing but Air they gripe at all the World to satisfie their Avarice but it slips through their Fingers and leaves nothing but Dust. But as great a Vanity as this is we find Covetousness to be the only Sin grows young as Men grow old Old Men have their Coverousness natural to 'em their Blood is cak'd and cold and Nature as it grows again toward Old Men have their Covetousness Natural to 'em Earth is fashion'd for the Iourney dull and heavy The nearer Death we grow in Years the more scraping we are and this Sneaking-Vice Drowns not till we Sink and I don't wonder at it for Dying-men will grasp at all they see while they see any thing but when their Senses fail Covetousness is the only Sin grows Young as Men grow Old then Farewell Riches the World 's too heavy then they let it fall Tho' we were misery all our Days yet when we expire we spread our Palms and let the World slip by but when ev'ry thing else is gone the Grave remains And in this Cell I shall lie hid with Iris till the Resurrection Lie still where thou art John for th' quiet o'th'Nation Nor can'st thou stir more without slat Conjuration Being now laid to sleep with my Dear a Marble-Tomb was to be our Blankets for Tombs are the Cloaths of the Dead but we shall get Iris and Phil. being laid to sleep they want the Marble for their Blankets no Cold if we wait for ' em However as I lived and died in a Cell so to shew I 'd be still Incognito I 'll here Write my Epitaph and then as one expresses it If no Man goes to Bed 'till he Dies nor ' wakes 'till the Resurrection Good-night t' ye here and Good-morrow hereafter Dunton's Epitaph on himself HEre lies his Dust who chiefly aim'd to know Dunton's Epitaph on himself Himself and chose to Live Incognito He was so great a Master of that Art He understands it now in ev'ry Part But tho' 't was Solitude he did so prize He has it least whil'st in this Cell he lies For whil'st depriv'd my dearest Life of thee The World was all an Hermitage to me But mixt with Iris nought can lonesome be My Name inquire not for thou must not know For Phil. desired when he from hence did go That he might allways lie Incognito Thus Man goeth to his long home and the Mourners go about the Man goes to his long home streets Ring the Bells for Dunton is Dead and Buryed that is as Mr. Uincent's Friends make a PULPIT of his Grave for on his Tomb-stone are Ring the Bells for Dunton is Dead and Buried these Words Immortal Souls to benefit and save I thus have made a Pulpit of my Grave So I have endeavour'd to make An Essay on my own Funeral which I have been only burying my self in Effigie being a Representation of what will be done when I 'm Dead whereas I 'm yet alive 't is excusable if I have follow'd their Examples who fill their Maps with Fancies of their own Brains But tho' I have been only burying my self in Effigie yet having a longing desire to be happy with Iris which When I dye in earnest I hope the thoughts of my Death Funeral will be no more terrible to me than 't is now in Speculation I can't be but by dying 't is no matter how soon my Dying Solemnity were over and when I come to dye in earnest I hope the thoughts of my Death and Funeral will be no more terrible to me then 't is now in Speculation 'T was said Philostratus liv'd Seven Years in his own Tomb that he might be acquainted with it That Death may become thus Familiar to me I 'll walk every Day with Ioseph a turn or two in my Garden with Death and with Herbet as often dress out my own Hearse I wou'd be so well acquainted with Death as impatiently to desire it not that I wou'd dye of an Appoplexy by a private Stab or any sudden Death From sudden Philostratus liv'd 7 Years in his Tomb. Death good Lord deliver me for whenever I dye I wou'd have so much notice that I may leave nothing behind me that I shou'd take to Heaven with me not that I wou'd be deliver'd from sudden Death in respect of it self Of sudden Death for I care not how short my passage be so it be safe Never any weary Traveller complain'd that he came too soon to his Journies end but I wou'd not have a sudden Death so as to be surpriz'd beforo I 'm summon'd However The Divine Herbert drest out his own Hearse dye I wou'd and as pleasant a sight as Valeria may think my funeral I did not care how soon she saw it as here describ'd for then she 'll have more I can't say enough of the World and I 'm sick on 't and wou'd fain change I wou'd leave nothing behind me that I shou'd take to Heaven with me it for Heaven 'T is true the Mannour of Sampsil is a fine sight but he that looks up to Heaven will not care for the World Oh how amiable are thy Tabernacles O Lord of Hosts One Day in thy Courts is better than a Thousand I had rather be a Door-keeper in the House of God than live any longer in this vile World there 's nothing in it but Vanity Disappointments and black Ingratitude then oh that I was stript into a naked Spirit and set My Passionate Desire to be stript into a naked Spirit ashore in a better World Why lingrest thou bright Lamp of Heaven Why Do thy Steeds tread so slowly on must I Be forc'd to live when I desire to dye Lash thou those lasie Iades drive with full speed And end my slow pac'd Days that I may feed With Ioy on him for whom my Heart doth Bleed Post blessed Iesus Come Lord flee away And turn this Night into the brightest Day By thine approach come Lord and do not stay Take thou Doves Wings or give Doves Wings to me That I may leave this World and come to thee And ever in thy glorious Presence be I like not this bile World it is meer Dross Thou only art pure Gold then sure 't is loss To be without the Throne t' enjoy a Cross. What tho' I must pass through the Gates of
Conjecture However I 'll close my Eyes on this vain World and dress out my Hearse in the best manner I can I went Yesterday to Stepny-Church to to view the Graves of others the better to prepare my Mind to write this Essay on my own Funeral I spent about Five Hours among the Tombs which tho' it be a Melancholy sight yet has something in it proper to instruct the Living In walking through What we may learn by walking through a Church-yard and by Viewing of Dead Mens Sculls a Church-yard especially that of Stepny and Chiswick we see a great number of Dead-mens-Sculls arranged one in Pile upon another which puts us in mind of the Vanity and Arrogance wherewith other while they have bin fill'd We need but walk through a Church yard to see what is this Foolish Animal Man Here we see what we Magnify what we call a King a Duke a Lord even a little Warm and Walking Earth that will be Ashes soon we came into the World crying and squalling and We consume our Lives in drivling Infancy in Ignorance Sleep c. so much of our Time 's consum'd in drivling Infancy in Ignorance Sleep Disease Trouble that the remainder is not worth the being rear'd to we see in walking through a Church yard how Time laughs us out of Greatness and shuts up our wide designs in a Dark Narrow Room Then what Midness is the Pomp the Noise Time shuts up our wids designs in a Dark Narrow-Room the Splendour the Frantick Glory of this Foolish Life we makeour selves Fools to disport our selves and vary a Thousand antick ugly shapes of Folly and Madness These fill up the Scenes and Empty Spaces of our Lives Folly and Madness fill up the Empty Spaces of our Lives The Thoughts of this one wou'd think shou'd abate our Pride and sensual Affections for why shou'd I be so Vain to Pride my selfe in outward Pomp and Bravery who within a few Hours may be a Dead Corpse carryed in Procession Methinks the Sight of a Funeral shou'd humble the Proudest Man or Proud Man that thou maist be humbled The Sight of a Funeral shou'd humble the Proudestman Go to the dull Church-yard and see Those Hillocks of Mortality Where Proudest Man is only Found By a small swelling of the Ground Here Crowds of Rich Bodyes are made Slaves to the Pick Ax and the Spade Dig but a Foot or two to make A cold Bed for thy Dead Friends sake 'T is odds but in that Scantling Boom Thou robbst some Great Man of his Tomb And in thy Delving Smit'st upon His Shin-Bone or his Cranion Some make a huge Noise in the World to have the Honour to fill out a more Splendid Epitaph Such Lessons as these we may learn by viewing the Tombs of those who make a huge Noise in the World that they may have the Honour to fill out a more Splendid Epitaph And as a walk through a Church yard shews us the Uanity and End of all Worldly Grandeur so it also shews us That Death is as Common as 't is Ingrateful Infants as well as Men dayly can direct us in it Witness every Church-yard where are to be seen Graves of all Sizes In ev'ry Church-yard are to be seen Graves of all Sizes This Treasury of Death Survey Where Young and Old like Tribute pay See what Acquaintance thou canst Spy Amongst those Skulls I prithee try Man of Science prithee shew Thy Darling Child or Aged Foe Mankind by thee alone are read And know'st thou nothing of the Dead No surely nothing at all for Alexander seeing Diogenes tumbling among Dead Bones ask'd him what he sought To whom the other Diogenes Tumbling among Dead-Bones Answered that which I cannot find The difference between the Rich and the Poor And as there be Graves of all Qualities and Sizes so who can see 'em covered with Green Turf and withering Grass and forget he must die Before we come into the Church we are presented with these Sights A 7th part of our Time is set a part to put us in mind of dying as if unfit to hear Gods Word untill we are put in mind of Death and this we are injoyn'd once in Seven Dayes as if it 7th part of our Time were to be set apart to put us in mind of dying And happy are those Christians whom the sight of Funerals and Graves Rings a Peal in their Ears of their own Dissolution which by most is so little remembred that 't is become a saying I thought no more on 't then of my Dying Day which tho' a wicked Expression yet I fear there 's a great deal of Truth in 't for my self must Confess That Living in a Country Uillage where a Burial was a Rarity I never thought of Death it was so seldom presented unto me coming to London where there is plenty of Funeralls so that Coffins and Corpse in the Grave Observations upon the Funerals in Country Villages and upon those in London justle for Elbow-Room for so they do both at Stepney and Chiswick and ev'ry Church-yard in this Populous Town I Slighted and neglected Death because grown an Object so constant and Common How soul is my Stomach to turn all Food into bad Humours Funerals neither few nor frequent work effectually on me London is a Library of Mortality Volumes of all Sorts and sizes Rich and Poor Infants Children Youth c. dayly dye I see there is more required to make a good Schollar than only the having of many Books Lord I therefore wish that thou wilt be my School-Master and teach me to Number my Days that I may apply my Heart unto Wisdom Thus Madam have I shewn what we may learn in a Church-yard where you 'l see me buryed ' ete my Letter is finisht It teaches us the Vanity and End of all Worldly Grandeur What little A Church-yard gives me hints about my own Death and fair warning to prepare for it reason such Worms as I have to be Proud That Death is the Fate of all that come into this World from the Man of 60 to the Infant that is just born And in this Particular it reminds me of my own Death and the consequence of it and therefore A walk toâ—a Church-yard I thought the most likely thing to prepare my Mind to write an Essay on my own Funeral And as a Church-yard gives me hints about my own Death and fair warning to prepare for it so it also shews us the Folly of murmuring that we are Mortal Creatures for shou'd I complain that there shall be a Time in the which I shall not be I may as well repent that there was a Time in the which I was not and so be greived that I am We have to Reason to murmur that we are mortal Creatures noâ— Old as Adam had bin had he liv'd to this present Year 1700 for not to have been 4000 Years before this Moment
am every minute going Every Thought I have is a Sand running out of the Glass of Life Then surely he is dead already that does not look for Death How stupid are we to think so little of DYING when not only the DEATH of men but every thing else dies to shew us the Way Sweet Day so cool so calm so bright The â—ridal of the Earth and Skie The Dew shall weep thy fall to Night For thou must die Sweet Rose whose hue angry and brave Bids the rash Gazer wipe his Bye Thy Root is ever in its Grave And thou must die Sweet Spring full of sweet Days and Roses A Box where Sweets compacted lye My Musick shews ye have your Closes And all must die There may be News of my Funeral before I can finish my Essay upon it Only a sweet and Virtuous Soul Like season'd Timber never gives But tho the whole World turn to Coal Then chiefly lives Herbert Besides the warning I have of my own DEATH in the death of every thing I meet abroad that I might want no warning when I go to SLEEP which is a Death in Scripture is compared to Sleep kind of dying too What is my BED but as it were a Passing-bell to remember me every four and twenty Hours of my Mortality and that the Grave must speedily be my Bed a Clod my Pillow and the Mold and Worms my Covering When I put off my Shirt it puts me in mind of my Winding-sheet and last My Night-Prayer c may be resembl'd to making my Will Shroud that must cover me when I sleep under ground Death in Scripture is compared to Sleep Well then may my Night Prayer be resembled to making my Will I will be careful not to die intestate as also not to defer my Will-making 'till I am not compos mentis 'till the Lethargy of drowsiness seizes upon me but being in perfect Memory I bequeath my Soul to God the rather because I am sure the Devil will accuse me when sleeping Oh the advantage of Spirits above Bodies If our Clay Cottage be not cooled with Rest the Roof falls The Devil will accuse me when sleeping a Fire Satan hath no such need The Night is his fittest time Rev. 12. 10. Thus Mans Vacation is the Terms for the Beasts of the Forest they move most whilst he lies quiet in his Bed Lest therefore whilst sleeping I be Out-lawed for want of appearance to Satans Charge I commit my Cause to him who An Appearance to Satan's Charge Lying along is an improper Posture for Piety neither slumbers nor sleeps Answer for me oh my God I wou'd not by this Expression be so understood as if I might defer my Night Prayer 'till I'm in Bed This lying along is an improper posture for Piety Indeed there is no Contrivance of our Body but some good Man in Scripture hath hanfel'd it with Prayer The Publican standing Iob sitting Hezekiah lying on his Bed Elijah with his Face between his Legs but of all Postures give me St. Paul's For this cause I bow my Knees to the Father of my Lord Jesus Christ. Knees when they may they must be hended I have read a Copy of a grant of liberty from Queen Mary to Henry Ratcliff Earl of Sussex giving him leave to wear a Night Cap or Coif in her Majesties presence counted a great Favour because of his Infirmity Job 18. 1 Kings 28. 42. Eph. 3. 14. Weavers Fun. Mon. p. 63. I know in case of necessity God would graciously accept my Devotion bound down in a sick-dressing but now whilst I am in perfect Health it is inexcusable Christ commanded some to take up their Bed in token of their full Recovery my Laziness may suspect least thus my Bed taking me up prove a presage of my ensuing Sickness Then Blessed Lord pardon the former Idleness of my Night-Devotion and I will never more offend thee in the same kind In case of Necessity God will accept my Devotion bound down in a Sick-Dressing And thus my Bed my Sleep and every thing else proclaims Death is on his March towards me And seeing my Sand runs faster than my Ink your Ladyship may have News of my Funeral before I can finish this Essay upon it How soon doth Man decay When Clothes are taken from a Chest of Sweets To swadle Infants whose young Breath Scarce knows the way Those Clouts are little Winding-sheets Which do consign and send them unto Death When Boys go first to Bed They step into their voluntary Graves Sleep binds them fast only their Breath Makes them not dead Successive Nights like rolling Waves Convey them quickly who are bound for Death When Youth is frank and free And calls for Musick while his Veins do swell All Day exchanging Mirth and Breath In Company That Musick summons to the Knel Which shall befriend him at the House of Death When Man grows staid and wise Getting a House and Home where he may move Within the Circle of his Breath Schooling his Eyes That dumb Inclosure maketh Love Unto the COFFIN that attends his death When Age grows loâ— and weak Marking his Grave and thawing ev'ry Year 'Till all do melt and drown his Breath When he wou'd speak A Chair or Litter shews the Bier Which shall convey him to the House of Death Man e're he is aware Hath put together a Solemnity And drest his Herse while he hath Breath I 'm here ringing my own Passing-Bell That 'T is impossible for a man to write of his own Funeral whilst he 's living As yet to spare Yet Lord instruct us so to die That all these Dyings may be life in Death Herbert Or had I not these Warnings of Death in the several Stages of Life yet I have such a Crazy Body as daily puts me in mind of my Grave and I 'm now by writing an Essay upon my own Funeral as 't were ringing my own Passing-Bell But perhaps you 'll say How can you write of your own Funeral when you are yet alive And were you dead you 'd be less able to handle your Pen as much at you love scribling Why Madam I am dead but don't be frighted that I appear again in this White Sheet For tho I 'm dead 'T is thus dead I was born seemingly dead I was born seemingly dead t was thought I was lugg'd out of my natural CELL into my Grave and I could have been content had I had no more than the Register or Sexton to tell the World that I had ever been However I may venture to say that from the first laying of these Mudd-Walls in my conception they have moldred away and the whole course of Life is but an active Death nay every Meal we eat is as it were a Ransom from one Death and lays up for another and while we think The whole Course of Life is but an active Death a Thought we die for the Clock strikes and reckons
Death It is to come to thee that gav'st me Breath And thou art better Lord than Dunghil Earth When shall I come Lord tell me tell me when What must I tarry Threestore Years and Ten My thirsty Soul cannot hold out till then Come dearest Saviour come unlock this Cage Of sinful Flesh lovingly stop the Rage Of my Desires and thou my Pilgrimage Thus have I finish'd the Essay on my own Funeral and have prov'd to I have now finish'd the Essay on my Funeral your Ladyship that my Cell being an Emblem of Death is the fittest place to prepare for Heaven To get ready for Death and the Grave is a matter of great Consequence and no place so fit for it as a Cell where there 's no interruption I don't wonder that ev'ry Man commends Timon for his No place so fit to prepare for Death as a Cell hating of Men for we find so much danger in being in Company that even Adam cou'd not live one Day in it and live Innocent the first News we hear of him after Eve was Associate to him was that he had forfeited his Native Purity for having met with a Female she strait seduc'd him Adam cou'd not live one day in Company live innocent And what follows Why now he must return to that ground out of which he was taken Then being born to dye I love my Cell as 't will transmit me to the Darkness and Oblivion of the Grave and remind me of my own Funeral Neither is this describing my own Funeral without a President for we read of several that have Bury'd themselves in Effigie Being born to dye I love my Cell and have learn'd to dye at their own Funerals The Emperour Adrian entr'd into his Empire by the Port of his Tomb he Celebrates himself his own Funerals and is led in Triumph to his Sepuchre Several that have bury'd themselves in Effigie Now wâ— the Peoples Expectation high For wonted Pomp and glittering Chivalry But lo their Emp'rour doth invite 'em all Not to a Shew but to his Funeral This was self Victory and deserveth more Than all the Conquests he had won before The Emperour Adrian Celebrates himself his own Fun'ral Proud Spirits be ye Spectators of this Funeral Pomp which this great Monarch Adrian Celebrates to Day He invites the Heaven and the Earth to his Exequies since in their view he accompanies his Portraid Skeleton unto the Tomb his Body conducts thither its Shadow the Original the painted Figure Charles the 5th Maximilian the Emperour of the East and several others have done the like till a Metamorphosis be made both of one and the other Oh glorious Action where Garlands of Cypress dispute the Preheminence with Laurel and Palm But Adrian is not the only Person that has been buried in Essigie for Charles the Fifth long before the Resignation of his Empire caus'd a Sepulchre to be made him with all its funeral Furniture which was privately carryed about with him wherever he went Maximilian the Emperour did the same and wou'd often follow his Coffin to the Grave in a Solemn Manner We also read that Iohn Patriarch of Alexandria while he was Living and in Health caus'd his Monument to be Built but not to be Finisht for this Reason that upon solemn Days when he performed Divine-Service he might be put in mind by some of the Clergy in these Words Sir your Monument is yet unfinish'd command it to be finisht for to Morrow you 're to Celebrate your own Funeral When the Emperrour of the East was newly chosen no Person had Liberty to speak to him before the Stone-Cutter had shew'd him several sorts of Marble Genebald Bp of Laudanum lay in a Bed made like a Coffin The Study of Vertue is the best Preparation for Death and ask'd him of which his Majesty wou'd be pleas'd to have his Monument made And many others in perfect Health have thus attended their own Funerals Genebald Bp. of Laudanum lay in a Bed made like a Coffin for 7 Years together and â—da a Woman of great Piety long before her Death caus'd her Coffin to be made which twice a Day she filled with Bread and Meat and gave to the Poor And certainly the Study of Vertue is the best Preparation for Death But we need not look into Ancient Times for Persons that have provided for their own funerals when our present Age abounds with so many Instances of this Nature I shall first Instance in the Reverend Mr. Baxter who Dates most of his Books from the Brink of the Grave Being in Mr. Baxter drew up his own Funeral Sermon my Quarters says this Pious Divine far from home but so extreme Languishing by the sudden loss of about a Gallon of Blood and having no Acquaintance about me nor any Book but my Bible and Living in continual Expectation of Death I bent my Thoughts on my everlasting Rest and because my Memory through extreme Weakness was imperfect I took my Pen In his Book called The Saints everlasting Rest. and began to draw up my own funeral Sermon or some Helps for my own Meditations of Heaven to sweeten both the rest of my Life and my Death I cou'd next tell your Ladyship of a Gentleman who Markt all his Plate with a Death's-head My own Mother would often visit that Grave where she desir'd to the Buried Mr. Thorp being in Debt Other late Instances of Pious-men who have kept their Coffins by ' em retreats to the Mint where he falls to Writing a Poem on himself which he calls a Living-Clegy and invites all his Creditors to his Funeral to lament his Death I have no Reason to do this for I have taken that care that if any come to my Funeral that I 'm oblig'd to they may have Cause rather to lament the loss of my Life than any thing they can lose by me Mr. Stephens of Lothbury kept his Coffin by him several Years Mrs. Parry of Monmouth did the same and so did Mrs. Collins 'till Mr. Thorp's Living-Esegy her Husband was Buryed in it I don't pretend to live up to these Examples but I 've already purchast a â—rave and in these Sheets I 'm following my Hearse to it and I hope this Essay on my Funeral will remind Mr. Stephens kept a Memento of Death in his own House me of Death when I 'm most Tempted to forget it but that I may not I shall ev'ry Day my self make funeral Processions I mean visit in Meditation every Hour my Grave There is no fooling with Life when 't is once turn'd beyond Thirty and therefore I wou'd now Dâ—lly Celebrate my own Funeral and invite to my Exequies Ambition Avarice and all other I would now daily Celebrate my own Funeral Passions wherewith I may be attainted to the end that I may be a Conquerour even by my own proper Defeat For when a Man yields to the Meditation of
Death then Reason commands Sense all obey to this Apprehension of Frailty Pleasures by little and little abandon us the Sweets of Life seem Sowr and we can find no other quiet but in the Hope Before Death and the Funeral no Man is Happy of that glorious Life to come 'T was the Saying of a great Man Before Death and the funeral no Man is happy But that I may Die in Peace 't is requisite that I Die daily Philip of Macedon gave a Boy a Pension ev'ry Morning to say to him Philip remember thou art a Man My Purse won't allow of a Daily Monitor but I hope this Essay on my Why God wou'd have me ignorant of my last Hour funeral will serve me as well to bear Death in Mind as if Philp's-Deaths-Dead were set before me But God wou'd have me ignorant of my last Hour that suspecting it always I might always be ready and where can I get ready if not in a Cell where are few Temptations to Sin and Vanity And therefore I 'll never leave it but like the silly-Grashopper Live and Die and perhaps be Buried in the same Ground But however my Body is dispos'd of I shall still be Your Friend INCOGNITO The Ladys Answer to my Eight Letter Sir I Can easily believe you are the First that ever Writ an Essay upon their own Funeral for our Dissolution is no inviting Subject it has but a Melancholy Aspect even when 't is look'd upon as the only Remedy of the Afflicted But How bitter are the Thoughts of Death to those that Live at Ease Which if you Consider you may well conclude had Valeria's Kindness been such as you would have had it you had ne'er enjoyed the Blessing you do now of Contemplating the Miseries of this Life till in Ransacking your Memory for all that could possibly any more afflict or torment you you light upon Death as the last and most dreadful of all terrible Things which being once fix'd in your Mind sets you out of the reach of all Temptations In this she makes it appear she loves you as well at least if not better than her own Soul that she affords you a Happiness she denies her self and chuses to leave you to the full Enjoyment of it without robbing you of the least Share But if you are Serious in the Thoughts of Death 't will do you more good than all her Smiles however you may prize ' em The Gentleman that thought he was as good as Dead when his Money was gone might have some cause to think himself really Dead tho he walk'd about perceiving the Fear every ones Countenance discover'd at the sight of him the Case of most Persons in his Circumstance therefore never be surpriz'd at his having more Brains than he could be quiet with for were your Case his in one respect it might be so perhaps in the other every one is not able to hear the Contempt of the World Tho' if well consider'd when we answer the Designs of Providence it should be all one to us whether we stand for a Penny or a Crown for in God's Account we are equally as useful and acceptable And I am perswaded there has been many great Saints very little seen or known in the World and whose only Share in it has been but Obscurity and Contempt and truly speaking what are we the better for so large a share of earthly Enjoyments that shall both disorder our Minds and Bodies that we can't discern our true Interest but place our Happiness in catching at departing shadows while we forget we are all born subjects of Death and begin to die from the first moment of our Life And 't is no matter how soon one is discharg'd of a Debt one must certainly pay And were our Life never so long to think in time we should have enough of living is a great mistake for at Fourscore Years and we shall think our lives short and our past Enjoyments extremely imperfect and any one that dies at Twenty can do no more That in general Death is saluted with the same shy Air whenever he claims the debt they are not willing to pay as well those he has long forborn as those he deals with more severely Yet methinks aged Person 's Experience and some sort of good Nature and Compassion might prevail with 'em willingly to make room for others that by their Deaths young Persons to whom they leave their Places may have the opportunity of making the same Experiment they have done of the Emptiness of all humane Ioys which is best known and believed by dear bought Experience and never till then can they be freed from the Tyranny of Vain-hopes and wild Ambition the Disease of Youth I confess I can't but wonder at the vain curiosity of the Philosophers who set themselves so much to know exactly in the last Minute of their Life what Being Death has which is none at all The most that can be seen of Death is by its Operation on our Bodies in this Life our total Dissolution is but the last stroke not much differing from the rest nor perhaps the most painful we know enough of it to make us hate the thoughts of it as of a Molancholy Subject and if ever we are brought to love it 't is certain it must be by looking beyond it For 't is to the consideration of that happy change of Life to which Death brings us that we are obliged for all our Ease and Comfort in this Life and from the hopes that in Death the Soul shall be set at Liberty and be triumphant over that Enemy which had so long insulted and with the sight and feeling of his Tyranny kept it in bondage and slavish fear There 's nothing in this World that is not under his Dominion his Character is stampt on every thing which makes 'em change corrupt and die that we are tir'd with such perpetual Alterations tho'it shou'd sometimes supply the place of a comfort to one that has no better for if a meer change will mend their Condition they are sure of that Relief since nothing remains in the same state all tends to a Dissolution the Heavens wax old as doth a Garment and shall be changed nay Death it self must shortly yield to Destruction and till then the worst it can do is but to change us for the better 'T is much to be admir'd there should be any Pretenders to the making a Divorce between Death and Sin that the same Persons that abhor the Sight oâ— Thoughts of Death shou'd take Sin into their Embraces for what 's so sure to let in Death as Sin For 't is not only the Wages of Sin but it's natural Issue and one may say 't is the only good thing Sin ever brought forth for we have many Advantages by Death since every degree of Death in the Body adds to the Life and Vigour of any Soul that is not already dead in Sin and in the