against the affaults of hoftility, and the mines of treachery, it will yet be but an uncom fortable life to be ever in alarms; though we were compaffed round with fire, to defend ourfelves from wild beafts, the lodging would be unpleasant, because we must always be obliged to watch that fire, and to fear no lefs the defects of our guard, than the diligences of our enemy. The fum of this is, that a virtuous man is in danger to be trod upon and deftroyed in the crowd of his contraries, nay, which is worse, to be changed and corrupted by them; and that it is impoffible to escape both the inconveniencies, without fo much caution as will take away the whole quiet, that is the happiness, of his life.

Ye fee then, what he may lofe; but, I pray, what can he get there?

Quid Romæ faciam? Mentiri nefcio *.

What should a man of truth and honefty do at Rome? he can neither understand nor fpeak the language of the place; a naked man may fwim in the fea, but it is not the way to catch fish there; they are likelier to devour him, than he them, if he bring no nets, and use no deceits. I think therefore it was wife and friendly advice, which Mar tial gave to Fabian, when he met him newly arrived at Rome :

Honeft and poor, faithful in word and thought;
What has thee, Fabian, to the city brought?
Thou neither the buffoon nor bawd canft play,
Nor with falfe whispers th' innocent betray:
Nor corrupt wives, nor from rich beldams get
A living by thy induftry and fweat;
Nor with vain promifes and projects cheat,
Nor bribe or flatter any of the great.
But you're a man of learning, prudent, juft;
A man of courage, firm, and fit for truft.
Why you may ftay and live unenvied here;

But (faith) go back, and keep you where you were.

Nay, if nothing of all thefe were in the cafe, yet the very fight of uncleanness is loathfome to the cleanly; the fight of folly and impiety, vexatious to the wife and pious.

Lucretius, by his favour, though a good poet, was but an ill-natured man, when he faid, it was delightful to fee other men in a great florm: and no lefs ill natured should I think Democritus, who laughed at all the world, but that he retired himself fo much out of it, that we may perceive he took no great pleasure in that kind of mirth. I have been drawn twice or thrice by company to go to Bedlam, and have feen others very much delighted with the fantastical extravagancy of fo many various madneffes; which upon me wrought fo contrary an effect, that I always returned, not only melancholy, but even fick with the fight. My compaffion there was perhaps too tender, for I meet a thousand madmen abroad, without any perturbation; though, to weigh the matter justly, the total lofs of reafon is lefs deplorable than the total depravation of it. An exact judge of human bleffings, of riches, honours, beauty, even of wit itself, fhould pity the abuse of them, more than the want.

Briefly, though a wife man could pafs never fo fecurely through the great roads of human life, yet he will meet perpetually with fo many objects and occafions of compaffion, grief, shame, anger, hatred, indignation, and all paffions but envy (for he will find nothing to deserve that), that he had better ftrike into fome private path; nay, go fo far, if he could, out of the common way, " ut nec facta audiat Pelopidarum ;" that he might not fo much as hear of the actions of the fons of Adam. But, whither fhall we fly then? into the deferts, like the ancient Hermits?

-Quà terra patet, fera regnat Erinnys,

In facinus jurâffe putes

Juv. Sat. iii. 41.

+ Lucr. lib. ii.

Ovid. Metam. i. 245.

One would think that all mankind had bound themselves by an oath to do all the wickedness they can; that they had all (as the fcripture speaks) "fold themselves to "fin:" the difference only is, that fome are a little more crafty (and but a little, God knows) in making of the bargain. I thought, when I first went to dwell in the country, that without doubt I fhould have met there with the fimplicity of the old poetical golden age; I thought to have found no inhabitants there, but fuch as the Thepherds of Sir Phil. Sydney in Arcadia, or of Monfieur d'Urfé upon the banks of Lignon; and began to confider with myfelf, which way I might recommend no less to pofterity the happiness and innocence of the men of Chertfea: but, to confefs the truth, I perceived quickly, by infallible demonftrations, that I was ftill in Old England, and not in Arcadia or La Forrest; that, if I could not content myself with any thing lefs than exact fidelity in human converfation, I had almoft as good go back and feek for it in the Court, or the Exchange, or Westminster-hall. I ask again, then, whither fhall we fly, or what fhall we do? The world may fo come in a man's way, that he cannot choose but falute it; he muft take heed, though, not to go a whoring after it. If, by any lawful vocation, or juft neceffity, men happen to be married to it, I can only give them St. Paul's advice: "Brethren, the time is short; it remains, that they, that "have wives, be as though they had none. But I would that all men were even as I myself."

In all cafes, they must be fure, that they do mundum ducere, and not mundo nubere, They must retain the fuperiority and headship over it; happy are they, who can get out of the fight of this deceitful beauty, that they may not be led fo much as into temptation; who have not only quitted the metropolis, but can abstain from ever seeing the next market-town in their country.

CLAUDIAN'S OLD MAN OF VERONA.

DE SENE VERONENSI, QUI SUBURBIUM NUNQUAM EGRESSUS EST.

"FELIX, qui patriis, &c."

HAPPY the man, who his whole time doth bound

Within th' inclosure of his little ground.

Happy the man, whom the fame humble place

(Th' hereditary cottage of his race)

From his first rifing infancy has known,

And by degrees fees gently bending down,
With natural propenfion, to that earth

Which both preferv'd his life, and gave him birth.
Him no falfe diftant lights, by fortune fet,
Could ever into foolish wanderings get.
He never dangers either faw or fear'd:
The dreadful ftorms at fea he never heard.
He never heard the fhrill alarms of war,
Or the worse noifes of the lawyers' bar.
No change of confuls marks to him the year,
The change of feafons is his calendar.

The cold and heat, winter and fummer shows;
Autumn by fruits, and fpring by flowers, he knows.
He measures time by land-marks, and has found
For the whole day the dial of his ground.

A neighbouring wood, born with himself, he fees,
And loves his old contemporary trees.

1 Cor. vii. 29. 7.

He 'as only heard of near Verona's name,
And knows it, like the Indies, but by fame.
Does with a like concernment notice take
Of the Red-fea, and of Benacus' lake.

Thus health and strength he to a third age enjoys,
And fees a long pofterity of boys.

About the fpacious world let others roam,

The voyage, life, is longest made at home.

I

IX.

THE SHORTNESS OF LIFE, AND UNCERTAINTY OF RICHES.

F you fhould fee a man, who were to crofs from Dover to Calais, run about very bufy and folicitous, and trouble himself many weeks before in making provifions for his voyage, would you commend him for a cautious and difcreet perfon, or laugh at him for a timorous and impertinent coxcomb? A man, who is exceffive in his pains and diligence, and who confumes the greatest part of his time in furnishing the remainder with all conveniences and even fuperfluities, is to angels and wife men no less ridiculous ; he does as little confider the fhortnefs of his paffage, that he might proportion his cares accordingly. It is, alas, fo narrow a ftrait betwixt the womb and the grave, that it might be called the Pas de Vie, as well as that the Pas de Calais.

66

We are all got (as Pindar calls us), creatures of a day, and therefore our Saviour bounds our defires to that little fpace; as if it were very probable that every day should be our laft, we are taught to demand even bread for no longer a time. The fun ought not to fet upon our covetoufuefs, no more than upon our anger; but, as to God Almighty a thousand years are as one day, fo, in direct oppofition, one day to the co vetous man is as a thousand years; tam brevi fortis jaculatur ævo multa," so far he fhoots beyond his butt: one would think, he were of the opinion of the Millenaries, and hoped for fo long a reign upon earth. The patriarchs before the flood, who enjoyed almoft fuch a life, made, we are fure, lefs flores for the maintaining of it; they, who lived nine hundred years, fcarcely provided for a few days; we, who live but a few days, provide at least for nine hundred years. What a ftrange alteration is this of human life and manners! and yet we fee an imitation of it in every man's particular experience; for we begin not the cares of life, till it be half spent, and ftill increase them, as that decreases.

What is there among the actions of beafts fo illogical and repugnant to reafon? When they do any thing, which feems to proceed from that which we call reason, we difdain to allow them that perfection, and attribute it only to a natural inftinct and are not we fools, too, by the fame kind of instinct? If we could but learn to "number our days" (as we are taught to pray that we might), we fhould adjust much better our other accounts; but, whilst we never confider an end of them, it is no wonder if our cares for them be without end, too. Horace advifes very wifely, and in excellent good words,

-Spatio brevi

Spem longam refeces-*

from a fhort life cut off all hopes that grow too long. They must be pruned away like fuckers, that choak the mother-plant, and hinder it from bearing fruit. And in another place, to the fame fenfe,

Vitæ fumma brevis fpem nos vetat inchoare longam †;

201

which Seneca does not mend, when he fays, "Oh! quanta dementia eft fpes longas inchoantium!" but he gives an example there of an acquaintance of his, named Senecio, who, from a very mean beginning, by great industry in turning about of money through all the ways of gain, had attained to extraordinary riches, but died on a fudden, after having fupped merrily, " In ipfo actu bene cedentium rerum, in ipfo procurrentis fortunæ impetu," in the full courfe of his good fortune, when fhe had a high tide, and a ftiff gale, and all her fails on; upon which occafion he cries, out of Virgil*, " Infere nunc, Melibae, piros; pone ordine vites!"

Go, Melibæus, now,

Go graff thy orchards, and thy vineyards plant;

Behold the fruit!

For this Senecio I have no compaffion, because he was taken, as we fay, in ipfo facto, ftill labouring in the work of avarice; but the poor rich man in St. Luke (whofe cafe was not like this) I could pity, methinks, if the Scripture would permit me; for he feems to have been fatisfied at laft, he confeffes he had enough for many years, he bids his foul take its cafe; and yet for all that, God fays to him," Thou fool, this night thy foul fhall be required of thee; and the things thou haft laid up, who fail they "belong to?" Where fhall we find the caufes of this bitter reproach and terrible judgment? We may find, I think, two; and God, perhaps, faw more. First, that he did not intend true reft to his foul, but only to change the employments of it from avarice to luxury; his defign is, to eat, and to drink, and to be merry. Secondly, that he went on too long before he thought of refting; the fullness of his old barns had not fufficed him, he would ftay till he was forced to build new ones: and God meted out to him in the fame meafure; fince he would have more riches than his life could contain, God deftroyed his life, and gave the fruits of it to another.

Thus God takes away fometimes the man from his riches, and no less frequently riches from the man: what hope can there be of fuch a marriage, where both parties are fo fickle and uncertain? by what bonds can fuch a couple be kept long together?

Why doft thou heap up wealth, which thou muft quit,

Or, what is worse, be left by it?

Why dost thou load thyfelf, when thou'rt to fly,

Oh man, ordain'd to die?

Why dost thou build up ftately rooms on high,
Thou who art under ground to lie?

Thou fow'ft and planteft, but no fruit must see,
For death, alas! is fowing thee.

Suppofe, thou fortune couldft to tameness bring,
And clip or pinion her wing;

Suppofe, thou could'ft on fate fo far prevail,
As

s not to cut off thy entail;

Yet death at all that fubtilty will laugh;

Death will that foolish gardener mock,

Who does a flight and annual plant engraff

Upon a lafting flock.

Thou doft thyfelf wife and induftrious deem;
A mighty husband thou would't seem ;
Fond man! like a bought flave, thou all the while
Doft but for others fweat and toil.

Officious fool! that needs muft meddling be

In bufiuefs, that concerns not thee!

VOL. II.

*Buc. i. 74.

+ Lake xii. 20.

Dd

For when to future years thou' cxtend'ft thy caress
Thou deal'ft in other men's affairs.

Ev'n aged men, as if they truly were
Children again, for age prepare;
Provisions for long travel they defign,

In the last point of their fhort line.

Wifely the ant against poor winter hoards

The ftock, which fummer's wealth affords:
In grafhoppers, that must at autumn die,
How vain were fuch an industry!

Of power and honour the deceitful light
Might half excuse our cheated fight,
If it of life the whole small time would stay,
And be our funshine all the day;

Like lightning, that, begot but in a cloud

(Though thining bright, and fpeaking loud)
Whilt it begins, concludes its violent race,
And where it gilds, it wounds the place.
Oh scene of fortune, which doft fair appear
Only to men that ftand not near!
Proud poverty, that tinfel bravery wears!

And, like a rainbow, painted tears!
Be prudent, and the fhore in profpe&t keep;
In a weak boat truft not the deep;
Plac'd beneath envy, above envying rife;

Pity great men, great things defpife.

The wife example of the heavenly lark,
Thy fellow-poet, Cowley, mark;
Above the clouds let thy proud mufic found,
Thy humble neft build on the ground.

I

66

X.

THE DANGER OF PROCRASTINATION.

A LETTER TO MR. S. L.

AM glad that you approve and applaud my defign of withdrawing myself from all tumult and bufinefs of the world, and confecrating the little reft of my time to those studies, to which nature had fo motherly inclined me, and from which fortune, like a step-mother, has fo long detained me. But nevertheless (you fay, which but is ærugo mera," a ruft which spoils the good metal it grows upon. But you fay) you would advife me not to precipitate that refolution, but to flay a while longer with patience and complaifance, till I had gotten fuch an eftate as might afford me (according to the faying of that perfon, whom you and I love very much, and would believe as foon as another man) cum dignitate otium." This were excellent advice to Joshua, who could bid the fun stay too. But there is no fooling with life, when it is once turned beyond forty. The feeking for a fortune then, is but a defperate aftergame: it is a hundred to one, if a man fling two fixes and recover all; especially, if his hand be no luckier than mine.