Wherefore they must needs cut the very throats of them that shall with
Epicurus tell them, We men were born once for all, and we cannot be born
twice, but our not being must last forever. For this will bring them to
slight their present good as little, or rather indeed as nothing at all
compared with everlastingness, and therefore to let it pass unenjoyed
and to become wholly negligent of virtue and action, as men disheartened
and brought to a contempt of themselves, as being but as it were of one
day's continuance and uncertain, and born for no considerable purpose.
For insensibility, dissolution, and the conceit that what hath no sense
is nothing to us, do not at all abate the fear of death, but rather help
to confirm it; for this very thing is it that nature most dreads,--
But may you all return to mould and wet,
(Ibid. vii. 99.)
to wit, the dissolution of the soul into what is without knowledge or
sense. Now, while Epicurus would have this to be a separation into
atoms and void, he doth but further cut off all hope of immortality; to
compass which (I can scarce refrain from saying) all men and women would
be well contented to be worried by Cerberus, and to carry water into
the tub full of holes, so they might but continue in being and not be
exterminated. Though (as I said before) there are not very many that
stand in fear of these things, they being but the tenets of old women
and the fabulous stories of mothers and nurses,--and even they that do
fear them yet believe that certain rites of initiation and purgation
will relieve them, by which after they are cleansed they shall play and
dance in hell forever, in company with those that have the privilege of
a bright light, clear air, and the use of speech,--yet to be deprived of
living disturbs all both young and old. We
Impatient love the light that shines on earth,
(Euripides, "Hippolytus," 193)
as Euripides saith. Nor are we easy or without regret when we hear
this:--
Him speaking thus th' eternal brightness leaves,
Where night the wearied steeds of day receives.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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