and torment him; for he is a Slave to his Paffions; and the leaft of them, when it is let loose upon him, is the Worst of Tyrants. He is like the Troubled Sea, restless and ever working, ruffled and difcompofed with every thing. He is not capable of being rendred fo much as Tolerably Happy, by the best Condition this World affords: For having fuch a World of impetuous Defires and Appetites, which must be all fatisfied, or elfe he is miferable; and there being fuch an infinite number of Circumstances, that must concur to the giving them that Satisfaction; and all those depending upon Things without him, which are perfectly out of his Power: it cannot be avoided, but he will continually find Matter to difquiet him, and render his Condition troublesome and unea fie: A Thousand unforeseen Accidents, will ever be croffing his Defigns. Nor will there be wanting fome little Thing or other, almost Hourly, to put him out of Humour.

And if this be the Cafe of the Vicious Man, in the Best Circumstances of this World, (where the Causes of Vexation are in a manner undifcernable) in what a miferable Condition must he needs be under thofe more Real Affictions; unto which Humane Life is obnoxious? What is there that shall be able to fupport his Spirit, under the Tediousness of a Lingering Sickness, or the Anguifh of an Acute Pain? What is become of all his Mirth and Jollity, if there fhould happen a Turn in his Fortune? if he fhould fall into Difgrace, or his

Friends

Friends forfake him, or the Means of maintaining his Pleasures fail him, and the miserable Man become Poor and Despised? Not to mention a great many more Evils, which will make him uncapable of any Confolation, eat into the Heart of his beft Enjoyments, and become Gall and Wormwood to his choiceft Delicacies.

And has he not now, think you, made admirable Provifions for his Pleafures? Has he not done himself a wonderful Piece of Service, by freeing himself from the Drudgery, as he calls it, of Vertue and Religion? Alas, Poor Man! This is the only Thing that would now have fecured him from all these fad Accidents and Difpleafures. The Good Man fits above the Reach of Fortune, and, in spite of all the Viciffitudes and Uncertainties of this Lower World, with which other Men are continually alarm'd, enjoys a conftant and undisturbed Peace. Thofe Evils that may be Avoided (and really a great many which afflict mortal Men, are fuch) he by his Prudent Conduct and Government of himself, wholly prevents. And thofe that are Una voidable, he takes by fuch a Handle, that they have no Power to do him any Harm: For he is indeed poffeffed of that which the Alchymifts in vain feek for: Such a Sovereign Art he has, that he can turn the Bafeft Metals into Gold, make fuch an use of the worst Atcidents that can befal him, that they fhall not be accounted his Miferies, but his Enjoy ments. So that, however the Varieties of his

Condition

Condition may occafion a Change in his Plea fures, yet can they never caufe any Lofs or Destruction of them.

And this Security he enjoys, not as fome of the Stoicks of old pretended to do, by an imaginary Infenfibility, or by changing the Names of Things, calling that no Evil, which really is one: But by an abfolute Refignation of himself to the Will of God, and an hearty acquiefcing in his wife Providence. He is certain, there is a God that governs the World, and that nothing happens to him, but by his Order and Appointment. And he is certain alfo, that this God hath a real Kindness for him, and would not difpenfe any Event unto him, but what is really for his Good and Advantage. And thefe Thoughts so support his Spirit, that he not only bears patiently, but thanks God for whatever happens to him. And instead of Fretting and Complaining, that Things fucceed otherwife than he expected, he refolves with himself, That that Condition, whatever it be, in which he actually is, is indeed beft for him, and that which he himself, were he to be the Carver of his Fortunes, fuppofing him but truly to understand his own Concernments, would chufe for himself above all others.

But farther, Befides this Security from Outward Disturbances, which our Vertue obtains for us, there is another Evil, which it alfo delivers us from, with which the wicked Man is almoft perpetually haunted, and which feldom fuffers him to enjoy any fincere, unmingled

unmingled Pleasure. That which I mean is the Pangs of an Evil Confcience, the Fears, the Reftlefness, the Confufion, the Amazements that arise in his Soul, from the Senfe of his Crimes, and the juft Apprehenfions of the Shame and Vengeance that doth await them, poffibly in this Life, but most certainly in the Life to come.

How happy, how profperous foever the Sinner be as to his other Affairs, yet thefe Furies he shall be fure to be plagued with: No Pompoufness of Condition, no coftly Entertainments, no Noife of Company, will be able to drive them away. Every Man that is wicked, cannot but know that he is fo; and that very Knowledge is a Principle of perpetual Anguish and Difquietude. Be his Crimes never fo fecret, yet he cannot be confident they will always continue fo, and the very Apprehenfion of this makes him feel all the Shame and Amazement of a present Discovery. But put the Cafe, he hath had the good luck to fin so closely, or in fuch a nature, that he need fear nothing from Men; yet he knows there is an Offended God, to whom he hath a fad and a fearful Reckoning to make; a God too Just to be Bribed, too Mighty to be Over-awed, too Wife to be Impofed upon. And is not the Man, think you, under fuch Reflections as these, likely to live a very Comfortable Life? Ah! none knows the Bitterness of them but himself that feels them. To the Judgment of others, he perhaps appears a very happy Man; he hath the World.

at

at his beck, all Things feems to conspire to make him a great Example of Profperity; we admire, we applaud his Condition. But, ah! we know not how fad a Heart he often carries under this fair Out-fide: We know not with what fudden Damps his Spirit is often ftruck, even in the height of his Revellings. We know not how unquiet, how broken his Sleeps are, how oft he starts and looks pale; when the Wife, that lies by his fide, uderstands not what the matter is with him.

He doth, indeed, endeavour all he can to ftifle his Cares, and to ftop the Mouth of his Conscience. He thinks to divert it with Business, or to flatter it with little Sophistries, or to drown it with Rivers of Wine, or to calm it with foft and gentle Airs. And he is, indeed, fometimes fo fuccessful in these Arts, as for a while to lay it afleep. But, alas! this is no lafting Peace, the leaft thing awakens it, even the Sound of a Paffing-Bell, or a Clap of Thunder; nay, a frightful Dream, or a melancholy Story, hath the Power to do it, and then the poor Man returns to his Torment.

And now judge you, whether the Honeft and Vertuous Man, that is free from all the fe Agonies, that is at Peace with God, and at Peace with his own Confcience; that apprehends nothing terrible from the one, nor feels any thing troublesome from the other, but is fafe from Himfelf, and from all the World, in his own Innocence: Judge, I fay, whether fuch a one hath not laid to himself better and furer