Message, that the obdurateness of my heart was able to hold out no longer, but melting into tears, was willing to have its flintiness broken by the hammer of Sacred Writ. Finding me in so good a temper, he left me to God and my self, for the perfecting of that work he had so hopefully and successfully begun. I began to consider what I was, only a statue of dust kneaded with tears, and mov’d by the hid engines of restless passions; a clod of earth, which the shortest Fever can burn to ashes, and the least showre of rheums wash away to nothing; and yet I made as great a noise in the world, as if both the Globes (those glorious Twins) had been unwombed from that formless Chaos, by the Midwifry of my wit: all my actions were attended with so much success, and so answerable to my desires, as if I had been one of heavens privy-Counsellors; which swelled me up with so much arrogance, that I spake thunder, lookt lightning, and breathed destruction; and by the eloquence of my own vanity, I perswaded my self, that the machinations of my brain were able to unhinge the Poles: but it is otherwise decreed, that the Ministers of Justice should put a period to my boundless pride, to make me know I am but a man, and that mortal too. And having but a short time to live, I thought it very requisite to think of that which must shortly be the means to convey me either to bliss or woe; by so doing, I seized on death before it seized on me. It was the fittest subject I could b usie my soul about; for what more heavenly, than the thought of immortality? and what so necessary, as the thought of death? _Seneca _saith_, When he was a young man, he studied to live well; when aged how to dye well_: but I never practised _Artem bene vivendi_, and therefore am so ignorant in _Arte bene moriendi_; which makes me so fearful, that I know not how to be careful of not being found unprepared. Methinks I already hear that doleful saying, _Ite imparata in paratum_. My sole companions were now despair and fear, for the King of fear is death; and indeed there is nothing absolutely fearful, but what tends to death, and I am confident, the fear of death is worse than the pains of death: for, fear of death kills us often, whereas death it self can do it but once. Life would not be troubled with too much care, nor death with too much fear, because fears betray, and cares disorder those succours which reason would afford to both: and though some say, he is more sorrowful than is necessary, that is sorrowful before there is necessity; yet that soul cannot be in a good condition, so long as it fears to think of dying; but did I not sorrow now, and justly fear that messenger that must bring me before the Tribunal of Heaven, I should have too little time to wash away so many black spots, especially having nothing but objects of terror and amazement before my eyes; but I never needed have feared what I should suffer when dead, if I had not deserved it whilst I lived.