"

waich Seneca does not mend, when he says, "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 benè cedentium rerum, in ipfo procurrentis fortune impetu," in the full courfe of his good fortune, when fhe had a high tide, and a stiff gale, and all her fails on; upon which occafion he cries, out of Virgil*,“ Infere nunc, Melibee, piros; pone ordine vites!"

For this Senecio I have no compaffion, because he was taken, as we fay; in ipfo falo, ftill labouring in the work of avarice; but the poor rich man in St. Luke (whofe case 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 eafe; 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 fhall 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 tay till he was forced to build new ones: and God meted out to him in the fame measure; fince he would have more riches than his life could contain, God destroyed 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 must quit,

Or, what is worse, be left by it?

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

Oh man, ordain'd to die?

Why doft 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 tamenefs bring,
And clip or pinion her wing;

Suppofe, thou could'ft on fate fo far prevail,
As 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'ft feem;
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 bufinefs, that concerns not thee!

For when to future years thou' extend'ft thy cares,
Thou deal'ft in other men's affairs.

Ev'n aged men, as if they truly were
Children again, for age prepare;
Provifions 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 excufe our cheated fight,
If it of life the whole fmall time would stay,
And be our funshine all the day;

Like lightning, that, begot but in a cloud

(Though fhining 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 music found,
Thy humble neft build on the ground.

I

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 reit of my time to thofe ftudies, 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 advise 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 (ac cording 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 ftay too. But there is no fooling with life, when it is once turned beyond forty. The fecking for a fortune then, is but a defperate aftergame: it is a hundred to one, if a man fling two fixes and recover all; cfpecially, if his hand be no luckier than mine.

There is fome help for all the defects of fortune; for, if a man cannot attain to the length of his wishes, he may have his remedy by cutting of them fhorter. Epicurus writes a letter to Idomeneus (who was then a very powerful, wealthy, and, it seems, bountiful perfon) to recommend to him, who had made fo many men rich, one Pythocles, a friend of his, whom he defired might be made a rich man too; "but I intreat you that you would not do it juft the fame way as you have done to many lefs deferving perfons, but in the most gentlemanly manner of obliging him, which is, not to add any thing to his eftate, but to take fomething from his delires."

The fum of this is, that, for the uncertain hopes of fome conveniences, we ought not to defer the execution of a work that is neceffary; efpecially, when the use of those things, which we would stay for, may otherwise be fupplied; but the lofs of time, never recovered: nay, 'farther yet, though we were fure to obtain all that we had a mind to, though we were fure of getting never fo much by continuing the game, yet, when the Eight of life is fo near going out, and ought to be fo precious," le jeu ne vaut pas la chandelle," the play is not worth the expence of the candle: after having been long toft in a tempeft, if our mafts be standing, and we have ftill fail and tackling enough to carry us to our port, it is no matter for the want of treamers and top-gallants;

-utere velis,

Totos pande finus- ✯

A gentleman in our late civil wars, when his quarters were beaten up by the enemy, was taken prifoner, and loft his life afterwards, only by ftaying to put on a band, and adjuft his periwig: he would efcape like a perfon of quality, or not at all, and died the noble martyr of ceremony and gentility. I think, your counsel of "Feftina lente" is as ill to a man who is flying from the world, as it would have been to that unfortunate, wellbred gentleman, who was fo cautious as not to fly undecently from his enemies; and therefore I prefer Horace's advice before yours,

-fapere aude,

Incipe

Begin; the getting out of doors is the greatest part of the journey. Varro † teaches us that Latin proverb, portam itineri longiffimam effe:" but to return to

Horace,

66

"-Sapere aude:

"Incipe: vivendi rectè qui prorogat horam,

"Rufticus expectat, dum labitur amnis: at ille

"Labitur, & labetur in omne volubilis ævum ‡.”

Begin, be bold, and venture to be wife ;

He who defers this work from day to day,

Does on a river's bank expecting flay,

Till the whole ftream, which topt him, fhould be gone,
That runs, and as it runs, for ever will run on.

Cafar (the man of expedition above all others) was fo far from this folly, that wheaever, in a journey, he was to crofs any river, he never went one foot out of his way for a bridge, or a ford, or a ferry; but flung himself into it immediately, and fwam over: and this is the courfe we ought to imitate, if we meet with any ftops in our way to happiness. Stay, till the waters are low; ftay, till fome boats come by to tranfport you; tay till a bridge be built for you; you had even as good itay, till the river be quite paft. Perfius (who, you use to fay, you do not know whether he be a good poet or no, because you cannot understand him, and whom therefore, I fay, I know to be not

a good poet) has an odd expreffion of thefe procrastinators, which, methinks is full of fancy:

"Jam cras hefternum confumpfimus; ecce aliud cras
Egerit hos annos."

Our yefterday's to-morrow now is gone,
And till a new to-morrow does come on;
We by to-morrows draw up all our store,
Till the exhaufted well can yield no more.

And now, I think, I am even with you, for your " Otium cum dignitate," and "Feftina "lente," and three or four other more of your new Latin fentences: if I fhould draw upon you all my forces out of Seneca and Plutarch upon this subject, I fhould over whelm you; but I leave thofe, as Triarii, for your next charge. I fhall only give you now a light fkirmish out of an epigrammatift, your special good friend; and fo, vale.

MARTIAL, LIB. V. EPIGR. lix.

"Cras te villurum, cras dicis, Pofthume, femper ;"&c.
TO-MORROW you will live, you always cry;

In what far country does this morrow lie,
That 'tis fo mighty long ere it arrive?
Beyond the Indies does this morrow live?
Tis fo far fetch'd this morrow, that I fear
"Twill be both very old and very dear.
To-morrow I will live, the fool does fay:
To-day itself's too late; the wife liv'd yefterday.

MARTIAL, LIB. II. EPIGR. XC.

"Quintiliane, vaga moderator fumme juventa," &c.

WONDER not, Sir (you who instruct the town
In the true wisdom of the facred gown)
That I make hafte to live, and cannot hold
Patiently out till I grow rich and old.

Life for delays and doubts no time does give,
None ever yet made hafte enough to live.
Let him defer it, whofe prepofterous care
Omit's himself, and reaches to his heir;
Who does his father's bounded ftores defpife
And whom his own too never can fuffice:
My humble thoughts no glittering roofs require,
Or rooms that shine with aught but conftant fire.
I well content the avarice of my fight
With the fair gildings of reflected light:
Pleafures abroad, the fport of nature yields,
Her living fountains, and her fmiling fields;
And then at home, what pleasure is 't to fee
A little, cleanly, cheerful, family!
Which if a chalte wife crown, no less in her
Than fortune, I the golden mean prefer.

Too noble, nor too wife, she should not be,
No, nor too rich, too fair, too fond of me.
Thus let my life flide filently away,
With fleep all night, and quiet all the day.

XÍ.

OF MYSELF.

T is a hard and nice fubject for a man to write of himself; it grates his own heart to fay any thing of difparagement, and the reader's ears to hear any thing of praife from him. There is no danger from me of offending him in this kind; neither my mind, nor my body, nor my fortune, allow me any materials for that vanity. It is fufficient for my own contentment, that they have preferved me from being scandalous or remarkable on the defective fide. But, befides that, I fhall here speak of myself only in relation to the fubject of these precedent discourses, and shall be likelier thereby to fall into the contempt, than rife up to the estimation, of most people.

As far as my memory can return back into my paft life, before I knew, or was capable of gueffing, what the world, or the glories or bufinefs of it, were, the natural affections of my foul gave me a fecret bent of averfion from them, as fome plants are faid to turn away from others, by an antipathy imperceptible to themfelves, and infcrutable to man's understanding. Even when I was a very young boy at school, instead of running about on holy-days and playing with my fellows, I was wont to steal from them, and walk into the fields, either alone with a book, or with fome one companion, if I could find any of the fame temper. I was then, too, fo much an enemy to all constraint, that my mafters could never prevail on me, by any perfuafions or encouragements, to learn without book the common rules of grammar; in which they difpenfed with me alone, because they found I made a fhift to do the ufual exercife out of my own reading and obfervation. That I was then of the fame mind as I am now (which I confefs, I wonder at myself) may appear by the latter end of an ode, which Ì made_ when I was but thirteen years old, and which was then printed with many other verses. The beginning of it is boyish; but of this part, which I here fet down (if a very little were corrected) I should hardly now be much ashamed.