University of Virginia Library

Sect. 2. Honours cannot protect us from the stroke of Death.

Of honours all that can be said doth meet
In Kings and Princes; glory, majesty,
Command, and titles: yet their sacred feet
Trudge to the grave-ward. Power, Royaltie,
A Kingdome, Crown, and Sceptre cannot be
Protections against mortalitie.
Princes are Gods on earth; yet sure they must,
As well as meaner men, be sick and die:
Their Royall bodies shall be chang'd to dust:
No crown below is worn eternally.
Of all those Kings which in Gods book we reade
One died, and another reign'd in's stead.


If good and loyall subjects had their wish,
A gracious Prince should never see the grave;
Nor should his Royall corps be made a dish
For worms: but pious wishes will not save
A King from dust. As other mens, his breath
Is in his nostrils: Crowns must bow to Death.
Sure, were it not a kind of petty treason
To wish his Majesty so long without
A crown of glory, I should think it reason
To pray his lamp of life might ne'r go out.
Though not in's self, yet, Lord, grant he may be
Immortall in a blessed progenie.

Meditation 1.

'Mongst us an humble great one is a wonder
Rarer by ods then is a winters thunder.
Great men and good each other seldome kisse:
Pride to preferment's married. O! there is
Not a thought within their brain
Of a grave, nor yet of seeing
Death; nor do they dream of being
Changed into dust again.


Consider, Sir, though you have been a taster
Of Princes favours, mounted all degrees
Of honour; have been called, Lord, and Master;
Though your approch hath bow'd as many knees
As once mighty Hamans: yet
Is it not Eternity
That you hold your greatnesse by.
Death and you must one day meet.
As I remember, I have read a story,
That one in Embassy sent from the King
Of Persia to Rome, was shew'd the glory
Of that proud citie: every famous thing
That was by the Romanes thought
To expresse the great and mighty
Prowesse of their glorious city,
Thither was the Persian brought.
There he beheld such glorious structures, rais'd
To dare the skies, that outwent all examples;
Where art and cost workman and founder prais'd:
Baths, Theatres, Tombs, Monuments, and Temples,
Statues that would wonder-strike
Any mortall man that should
Once behold them; neither could
All the world shew the like.


After this view Romes mighty Emperour,
Longing for praises, in the Persian tongue
Demanded of this strange Embassadour
What he now thought of Rome. I should do wrong
To your sacred Majesty,
Thus th'Ambassadour reply'd,
And this glorious place beside,
If I should not magnifie
Both you and it. But one thing I dislike
In Rome it self: I see that Death doth reigne
As well here as in Persia, and doth strike
The greatest down, and when he please doth chain
People, Senatours and Kings
In cold fetters made of dust:
Even noble Romanes must
Feel what putrefaction brings.
Your Emperours themselves have had their turns
In fun'rall piles. These tombs can testify
The Cæsars mortall. In these sacred urns
What lies but royall dust? Mortality
Happens here: and I know no man
But hath power to hold his breath
As long, and is free from Death
As much as the noblest Romane.


Look we a little on this land of ours:
Here's plenty, peace and every other blessing.
Into her bosome God in plenteous showres
Rains kindnesses that are beyond expressing.
Sure we of this kingdome may
Justly our Creatour praise
For a share in happier dayes
Then Rome did at best enjoy.
Ours is a land of barly and of wheat:
Our stones are iron, and our hills yield brasse.
A land wherein th'inhabitants do eat
Bread without scarcenesse; here our blessings passe
All enumeration:
What God severally bestows
Upon others joyntly flows
From his bounty to this nation.
Yet here men die too: not the russet Clowns,
And Peasants onely that do hold the plow,
And Shepherds that sit piping on the downs,
And milk-maids that do court'sie to a cow;
But those noble men that have
Titles, lordships, farms and mannours,
And a great book full of honours:
These go down into the grave.


See you not yonder super-stately palace?
Three generations since that house was builded.
A great man did it for his Lordships solace
In summer-time; but dying up he yielded
To his heir this stately pile:
This heir left it to his brother;
He dy'd too: and then another
Swagger'd there a little while.
And he that had it last is now remov'd
A story lower down into the dust.
Those swelling titles which were so belov'd;
That great estate in which the man did trust;
Troups of gallants that did give
Their attendance; all that treasure
Waiting on his Lordships pleasure
Could not keep the man alive.
Mark yonder marble-tomb: beneath it hath
This man a lodging. All those lines you see
On this side are a praising Epitaph,
And on the other side his titles be.
Of this fabrick if we might
One piece from another sunder,
And behold what lyeth under,
'T would be scarce so fair a sight.


Great ones, remember that there is a place
Which poore men call a death-bed, and a time
Of parting hence; you walk a nimble pace
To earth-ward every houre. Here though you clime
Up to Honour's highest round,
Drink a cup full to the brim
Of the world, in pleasures swim,
Death will lay you under ground.

Meditation 2.

VVhose heart so adamantine but would weep
Sad crimson drops to think upon some risers?
Lord, what a wicked shuffling they do keep
To lift themselves! Some have been sacrificers
Of their fathers, brothers, friends,
Kinsfolk, children, and have stood
Wetshod every step in bloud,
To attein their lofty ends.
Of martyrs what a lamentable heap
Did Herod make for fear to loose his crown!
A mother would have sold a cradle cheap
To buy a coffin or a mourning gown.
This fell Tyrants rage appears
Running down each Parents face:
His wrath left in every place
Childlesse mothers drown'd in tears.


And Absolom, that miracle of beauty,
So eagerly did long to be a King,
That he could soon unlearn his filiall duty,
And by a strange rebellion fain would bring
The thrice-venerable head
Of his aged father down
To the grave without a crown,
And he triumph in his stead.
Abimelech, so strong was his ambition,
A bloudie bargain made with certain men
Of Belial, and to hinder competition
Did sacrifice at once threescore and ten
Of his brothers on a stone:
With so foul and deep a guilt
So much harmlesse bloud is spilt,
That himself may reigne alone.
Of that inhumane hell-bred tragedie
By Athaliah on the royall seed,
The motive was desire of majestie,
And that her own arms might the better speed.
Our third Richard goes for one
Of those butchers who think good
To cement their crowns with bloud,
And by murders reach a throne.


The great Turks absolute prerogative,
Which in securitie his crown mainteins,
Is not to suffer one of them to live
That hath a drop of royall bloud in's veins:
When he's crown'd there's nothing lacking
That may to the safetie tend
Of this Monarch, but to send
The ghosts of his kinsmen packing.
If I at leisure were to write a storie
Of such black deeds as these at large, I could
Tell you of numbers who to purchase glorie,
Honours and high rooms in the world, have sold
(And this policie they call)
A good conscience, dearer farre
Then a thousand kingdomes are,
And to boot their God and all.
And yet when all is done, there dwells a God above,
A God that's greater then the greatest are,
Who can and will send Death for to remove
The greatest hence, and bring them to the barre:
Where must stand both small and great,
To have sentence e'r they go
Of eternall blisse or wo
At Gods dreadfull judgement-seat.


When you are seated highest let your carriage
Be full of pietie: you do an act
Worthy your greatnesse if you make a marriage
'Twixt it and goodnesse, if you do contract
Honours unto holynesse.
Ever give the Lord his due
Honour who hath honoured you:
Then will Death affright the lesse.
Affright the lesse? 't will not affright at all.
The errand's welcome when a charge is giv'n
To that grim pursuivant that he must call
Your honours hence unto a court in heav'n.
To be great is not the thing
That can dying-comforts yield:
Goodnesse onely is the field
Whence all soul-refreshings spring.

Meditation 3.

If ever it should please God and the King
(Which I do not desire) to give me honours;
Yet never should my best preferments bring
Vices to boot: they should not change my manners.
Many a man hath been good
Unpreferr'd, and not a slave
To his lusts; yet honours have
Put him in another mood.


Of Saul we heare no evil whilst he stood
Endow'd with nothing but a private fortune:
And afterward we heare as little good
Of Saul a King: His honours did importune
His bad nature to produce
Such fruits as were too unfit
For a King, and to commit
Sinnes that were beyond excuse.
As long as man is limited within
The bounds of humble, base and mean estate,
He seems to make some conscience of a sinne,
And one that would be good at any rate:
But no wickednesse he spares
When (by chance) the man is mounted
And 'mongst great ones is accounted;
Then the man himself declares.
Then his depraved nature with loose rains
Runnes uncontrolledly into the mire
Of all impietie; no sinne remains
Unacted by him: doth he but desire
To be wicked, vain or idle,
Any lust to satisfie,
That lust he will gratifie:
His affections wear no bridle.


I'll never be deboist although my seat
Of glory in the world be ne'r so high:
I will not therefore sinne because I'm great;
For if I greater were, yet I must die,
And must at Gods bench appear,
Where my sentence shall be given
To receive a hell or heaven,
As my doings have been here.