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Darkness, or lie heavy burned with Grief and Irons; to the poor Chriftian, that fits bound in the Galley; to despairful Widows, penfive Prifoners, and depofed Kings: To them whofe Fortune runs back, and whofe Spirits mutiny; unto fuch Death is a Redeemer, and the Grave a place for Retiredness and Reft.

These wait upon the Shore of Death, and waft unto him to draw near, wishing above all others to fee his Star, that they might be led to his Place, wooing the remorseless Sifters to wind down the Watch of their Life, and to break them off before the Hour.

9. But Death is a doleful Meffenger to a Ufurer, and Fate ultimately cuts their Thread: for it is never mentioned by him, but when Rumours of War and civil Tumults put him in mind thereof.

And when many Hands are armed, and the Peace of a City in disorder, and the Foot of the common Soldiers founds an Alarm on his Stairs, then perhaps such a One, broken in thoughts of his Monies abroad, and cursing the Monuments of Coin which are in his house, can be content to think of Death, and, being hafty of Perdition, will perhaps hang himself left his throat fhould be cut; provided that he may do it in his Study, furrounded with Wealth, to which his eye fends a faint and languishing Salute, even upon the turning off; remembering always, that he have Time and Liberty by writing, to depute himself as his own heir.

For that is a great Peace to his End, and reconciles him wonderfully upon the point.

10. Herein we all dally with ourselves, and are without Proof of Neceffity. I am not of those that dare promise to pine away myself in vain Glory, and I hold fuch to be but Feat-boldness, and them that dare commit it to be vain. Yet for my part, I think Nature should do me great Wrong, if I should be fo long in dying, as I was in being born.

To speak truth, no Man knows the Lifts of his own Patience; nor can divine how able he shall be in his Sufferings, till the Storm come; the perfecteft Virtue being tried in Action: but I would out of a Care to do the best Business well, ever keep a Guard, and stand upon keeping Faith and a good Conscience.

II. And if Wishes might find place, I would die together, and not my Mind often, and my Body once; that is, I would prepare for the Meffengers of Death, Sickness, and Affliction, and not wait long, or be attempted by the Violence of Pain.

Herein I do not profess myself a Stoic, to hold Grief no Evil, but Opinion, and a Thing indif

ferent.

But I consent with Cæfar, that the suddenest Paffage is eafieft, and there is nothing more awakens our Resolve and Readiness to die, than the quieted Confcience, ftrengthened with Opinion that we shall be well spoken of upon Earth by those that are juft, and of the Family of Virtue; the

oppofite whereof is a Fury to Man, and makes even Life unsweet.

Therefore, what is more heavy than evil Fame deserved? Or, likewise, who can see worse Days, than he that yet living doth follow at the Funerals of his own Reputation?

I have laid up many Hopes, that I am privileged from that kind of Mourning, and could wish the like Peace to all thofe, with whom I wage love.

12. I might fay much of the Commodities that Death can fell a Man; but briefly, Death is a Friend of ours, and he that is not ready to entertain him, is not at Home. Whilft I am, my Ambition is not to foreflow the Tide; I have but fo to make my Interest of it, as I may account for it; I would wish Nothing but what might better my Days, nor defire any greater Place than the Front of good Opinion. I make not Love to the Continuance of Days, but to the Goodness of them; nor wish to die, but refer myself to my Hour, which the great Difpenfer of all Things hath appointed me; yet as I am frail, and fuffered for the first Fault, were it given me to choose, I should not be earnest to see the Evening of my Age; that Extremity of itself being a Disease, and a mere Return into Infancy; so that if Perpetuity of Life might be given me, I should think what the Greek Poet faid, "Such an age is a mortal Evil." And fince I muft needs be dead, I require it may not be done before mine Enemies, that I be not ftript before I be cold; but before my Friends. The

Night was even now; but that Name is loft; it is not now late, but early. Mine Eyes begin to discharge their Watch, and compound with this fleshly Weakness for a Time of perpetual Reft; and I shall presently be as happy for a few Hours, as I had died the firft Hour I was born.

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THE WISDOM OF THE

ANCIENTS.

Written in Latin by the Right Honourable
Sir FRANCIS BACON, Knight, Baron

of Verulam, and Lord Chan-
cellor of England.

Done into English by Sir ARTHUR Gorges, Knight.

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