Ingentem meminit parvo qui germine quercum, Æquævumque videt consenuisse nemus. Happy the man, who his whole time doth bound From his first rising infancy has known, Which both preserv'd his life, and gave him birth. The cold and heat, winter and summer shows; A neighbouring wood, born with himself, he sees. And loves his old contemporary trees. He has only heard of near Verona's name, Thus health and strength he to a third age enjoys, About the spacious world let others roam, The voyage, life, is longest made at home. IX. THE SHORTNESS OF LIFE, AND UNCER TAINTY OF RICHES. IF you should see a man, who were to cross from Dover to Calais, run about very busy and solicitous, and trouble himself many weeks before in making provisions for his voyage, would you commend him for a cautious and discreet person, or laugh at him for a timorous and impertinent coxcomb? A man, who is excessive in his pains and diligence, and who consumes the greatest part of his time in furnishing the remainder with all conveniences and even superfluities, is to angels and wise men no less ridiculous; he does as little consider the shortness of his passage, that he might proportion his cares accordingly. It is, alas, so narrow a streight betwixt the womb and the grave, that it might be called the Pas de Vie, as well as that the Pas de Calais. We are all pepo, (as Pindar calls us,) creatures of a day, and therefore our Saviour bounds our desires to that little space; as if it were very probable that every day should be our last, we are taught to demand even bread for no longer a time. The sun ought not to set upon our covetousness, no more than upon our anger; but, as to God Almighty a thousand years are as one day, so, in direct opposition, one day to the covetous man is as a thousand years; "tam brevi fortis jaculatur ævo multa," so far he shoots beyond his butt one would think, he were of the opinion of the Millenaries, and hoped for so long a reign upon earth. The patriarchs before the flood, who enjoyed almost such a life, made, we are sure, less stores for the maintaining of it; they, who lived nine hundred years, scarcely provided for a few days; we, who live but a few days, provide at least for nine hundred years. What a strange alteration is this of human life and manners! and yet we see an imitation of it in every man's particular experience; for we begin not the cares of life, till it be half spent, and still increase them, as that decreases. : What is there among the actions of beasts so illogical and repugnant to reason? When they do any thing, which seems to proceed from that which we call reason, we disdain to allow them that perfection, and attribute it only to a natural instinct and are not we fools, too, by the same kind of instinct? If we could but learn to number our days (as we are taught to pray that we might), we should adjust much better our other accounts; but, whilst we never consider an end of them, it is no wonder if our cares for them be without end, too. Horace advises very wisely, and in excellent good words, -Spatio brevi Spem longam reseces from a short life cut off all hopes that grow too long. They must be pruned away, like suckers, that choak the mother-plant, and hinder it from bearing fruit. And in another place, to the same sense, Vitæ summa brevis spem nos vetat inchoare longam ; which Seneca does not mend when he says, "Oh! quanta dementia est spes 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 ways of gain, had attained to extraordinary riches, but died on a sudden after having supped merrily, "In ipso actu benè cedentium rerum, in ipso procurrentis fortunæ impetu," in the full course of his good fortune, when she had a high tide, and a stiff gale, and all her sails on; upon which occasion he cries, out of Virgil, "Infere nunc, Melibæe, pyros; pone ordine vites!" -Go, Melibæus, now, Go graff thy orchards, and thy vineyards plant; Behold the fruit! For this Senecio I have no compassion, because he was taken, as we say, in ipso facto, still labouring |