# Familiar Colloquies/The Epicurean

Layout 2
THE EPICUREAN.
Hedonius and Spudceus.
He. What is my Spudceus hunting after, he is so intent upon his book, muttering I know 2iot what to himself? Sp. Hedonius, I was indeed hunting, but that was all, for I can catch nothing. He. What book is that in your bosom 1 Sp. Tully's " Dialogues of the Ends of Good Things." lie. But is it not better to inquire after the beginning of them than the end ? Sp. Mark Tully calls a perfect good the end of good, such as whosoever obtains can desire nothing more. He. It is, indeed, a very eloquent and learned piece ; but have you done any- thing to the purpose as to the attainment of the knowledge of the truth 1 Sp. Indeed I seem to have got this good by it, that I am more in uncertainty as to the ends of good than I was before. It is commonly the case of farmers to be at uncertainty as to the ends of lands. He. I wonder very much that there is so great a disagreement in the opinions of so many great men concerning so great a matter. Sp. No wonder at all, for ei-ror is very fertile, but ti'uth simple ; and they being ignorant of the head and fountain of the whole affair, they all make absurd and doting guesses. But which opinion do you think comes neai-est to the truth?
He. When I meet with M. Tully opposing them, I like none of them ; again, when I find him. defending them, I have not a word to say against it. But to me the Stoics seem to be the least out of the way, and next to them the Peripatetics. I like no sect so well as the Epicureans. Sp. There is no sect amongst them all that is so much condemned by a universal consent. He. Let us set prejudice aside, and let Epicurus be what he willj let us consider the thing in itself. He places the happiness of man in pleasure, and judges that life to be most blessed that has most pleasure and least pain. Sp. He does so. He. What can be more divine than this sentence? Sp. Everybody cries out, this is the saying of a brute, rather than of a man. He. I know they do, but they are mistaken in the names of things. If we will speak the truth none are greater Epicureans than those Christians that live a pious life. Sp. They come nearer to it than the Cynics; for they make their bodies lean with fasting, bewail their own weak- nesses, either are poor or else make themselves so by their liberality to the poor, are oppressed by the powerful, and derided by the populace. And if pleasure be that which makes happy, I think this kind of life is as distant from pleasure as can well be.
He. Will you admit of Plautus for an author? Sp. Yes, if he says that which is right. He. Then I will present you with one sentence of a naughty servant, that has more wisdom in it than all the paradoxes of the Stoics. Sp. Let me hear it. He. Nihil est miserius fjUam animus sibi tnali conscius, nothing can be more wretched than a guilty conscience. Sp. I approve the saying; but what do you infer from it? He. If nothing be more wretched than a guilty conscience, it follows of consequence that nothing is more happy than a clear conscience. Sp. A very good inference; but in what part of the world will you find a conscience that is clear from all that is evil 'I ​He. I call that evil that breaks the friendship between God and man. Sp. But I believe there are very few that are clear of evil of this kind. He. And I take those that are cleansed to be pure ; such as by the lather of tears, and soap of repentance, and fire of charity have washed away their pollutions. The sins of such persons are not only not hurtful to them, but oftentimes turn to a greater good. Sp. I know what soap and suds is; but I never heard that pollutions were purged away by fire. He. But if you go to the refiner's shop you will see gold purged by fire ; and there is a certain sort of flax which, being put into the fire, is not burnt, but shines brighter, and is as clear as water, and therefore is called living flax.
Sp. In truth, thou bringest us a paradox that is more paradoxical than all the paradoxes of the Stoics. Do not they live a pleasant life of whom Christ has said, " Blessed are they that mourn?" He. They seem to mourn to men of the world, but in reality they live deliciously, and, as the old saying is, .being anointed with honey, live sweetly ; so that, compared to them, Sardanapalus, Philoxenus. Apicius, or the most noted voluptuary lived but a miserable life. Sp. What you say is new, but it is scarce credible. He. Do but once make a trial, and you will say over and over that what I say is true. I do not question but I can make you sensible that it is not incredible. Sp. Go about it then. He. I will, if you will grant me something by way of pre- liminary. Sp. I will, if what you require be just. He. If you grant them me I will return them with interest. I suppose you will allow that there is a difference between the soul and the body ? Sp> There is so, and as much as between heaven and earth, immortal and mortal. He. And again, that false goods are not to be taken for true goods? Sp. No more than the shadows are to be taken for the bodies themselves, or the delusions of magicians, or the fancies of dreams are to be accounted for truth.
He. So far you have answered me well ; I suppose you will likewise grant me this, that there can be no real pleasure but in a sound mind. Sp. Why not? A person cannot take pleasure in the sun if his eyes are sore, or relish wine in a fever. He. Nor can I think Epicurus himself would embrace a pleasure that has more pain in it, and of longer con- tinuance than the pleasure itself. Sp> In my opinion, neither he nor anybody else that has any sense would. He. I will presume you will grant me this, that God himself is the chiefest good, than which nothing is more glorious, more lovely, and more pleasant, Sp. Nobody would deny that but one that is more brutish than a Cyclops* But what then ? He. Well, then, now yoi have granted me that nobody lives more pleasantly than they that live piously > and nobody more miser- ably and afflictedly than they that live wickedly. Sp. Then I granted you more than I was aware of. He. But> as Plato says, that which lias been fairly granted ought not to be denied. Sp. Well, go on. He. A little puppy that is kept for pleasure is fed daintily, lies softly, plays and wantons continually; does not she live pleasantly then? Sp. Yes. He. Would you wish for such a life then ? Sp. No, by no means, unless I should wish to be a dog.
He. Then you confess that true pleasures proceed from the mind as from a fountain. Sp. It is plain they do. He. So great is the force of the mind that it often takes away the sense of outward pain, ​and sometimes makes what of itself is bitter to be sweet. Sp. We see that daily in those who are in love, who take a pleasure in watching and waiting all a cold winter's night at their mistress's door. He. Well, then, consider with yourself, if human love have such a power, which bulls and dogs have as well as we, how much more prevalent will that heavenly love be that proceeds from the spirit of Christ, the power of which is so great that it can render death amiable, than which there is nothing in the world more terrible]
Sp. I cannot tell what others feel within themselves, but I think that they want a great many pleasures that adhere to true piety. He. What pleasures do they go without 1 Sp. They do not get riches, attain honours, junket, dance, sing, perfume themselves, laugh and play. He. You should not have mentioned riches and honours in this case, for they do not make a life pleasant, but rather full of cares and anxiety. Let us consider the other things, which are what they hunt after that have a desire to live a pleasant life. Do you not see every day drunkards, fools, and madmen laughing and dancing 1 Sp. I do so. He. Do you think that they live pleasantly? Sp. I would wish that pleasure to those I hate. He. Why so? Sp. Because their mind is out of order. He. Then had you rather fast and study than live after that manner 1 Sp. Nay, I had rather dig. He. There is no difference between a rich man and a drunken man, saving that sleep will cure a drunken man, but doctors cannot cure a covetous man. A natural fool differs from a brute only in the form of his body; but they are less miserable whom nature has made brutes, than they that have made themselves so by their beastly lusts. Sp. I confess that. He. Do you think that they are sober or in their right mind who, for the sake of delusions and shadows of pleasure, neglect the true pleasures of the mind, and bring upon themselves real torments? Sp. They do not seem to be so. He. Such persons are not drunk with wine, but with love, with anger, with avarice, with ambition and other filthy lusts, which is a drunkenness more dangerous than to be drunk with wine. Cyrus, in the comedy, after he had slept away his debauch spoke sober things, but a mind drunk with vicious lust, how hardly does that come to itself? How many years does love, anger, hatred, lust, luxury, and ambition torment the mind? How many do we see that never wake out of the sleep of drunkenness, ambition, avarice, lust, and luxury, and repent of them even from their youth to decrepit old age ? Sp. I know a great many such as those. He. You have granted likewise that persons should not take false pleasures for true ones. Sp. I have so, and I shall not eat my words. He. That is no true pleasure that does not spring from true causes. Sp. I own that.
He. Then they are no true pleasures that mankind generally pursue, right or wrong. Sp. I do not think they are. He. If they were true pleasures they would only happen to good men, and render them happy whose share they fall to. But as to pleasure, can that be thought to be true that proceeds not from true good, but from the false shadows of good ? Sp. By no means. He. But pleasure is that which makes us live sweetly. Sp. It does so. He. Well, then, none lives truly pleasantly but he that lives piously i. e., that enjoys true good. It is only piety that gains the favour of God, the fountain of ​the chiefest good, that makes a man happy. Sp. I am almost con- vinced. He. Now do but mind how vastly wide they are from pleasure who, as is commonly accounted, follow nothing but pleasures. First of all, their minds are polluted and vitiated with the leaven of lusts, that if anything that is pleasant happens, it presently grows bitter; for when a fountain is muddy the stream will not run clear. Again, that pleasure ia no true pleasure that is received with a dis^ ordered mind, for there is nothing more pleasant to an angry man than revenge; but that pleasure is turned into pain as soon as the disease has forsaken the mind. Sp. I do not deny that.
He. But lastly, these pleasures proceed from false goods, whence it follows that they are but cheats; for what would you say if you saw a man under a delusion by magical arts, to drink, dance, clap his hands, when there was nothing really there that he thought he saw 1 Sp. I should say he was- both mad and miserable. He. I was once present at such a spectacle; there was a certain priest skilled in magic. Sp. He did not learn that from the Holy Scriptures. He. From the most unholy ones. Some ladies of the court paid a visit to this, priest, inviting themselves to dine with him, and upbraiding him with covet- ousness and niggardliness; at last he consented and gave them an invitation. They came without a breakfast, that they might eat the heartier dinner. The table seemed to be plentifully furnished, and no dainties wanting ; and they fed heartily, and returning their host thanks for his entertainment, went home. But immediately they perceived themselves very hungry, and wondered that they should be so when they had just come from eating so plentifully. At length the matter came out, and they were soundly laughed at. Sp. And they deserved it too; they had better have staid at home and fed upon ordinary fare, than have gone abroad to be feasted with imaginary dainties. He. But, in my opinion, it is far more ridiculous for men in common to grasp at the mere empty shadows of good, instead of the true and substantial goods, and to take a pleasure in those deceits that do not only end in a jest, but in everlasting sorrows. Sp. The more I consider it, the more I am convinced I have spoken to the purpose.
He. Well, let it be allowed for the present that things are called pleasures that really are not so. But would you call that metheglin sweet that has more aloes than honey in it? Sp. No, I should not if there were a third part as much. He. Or would you wish to have the itch, that you might have the pleasure of scratching 1 Sp. No, if I were in my senses. He. Well, then, do but reckon with yourself how nmeh bitterness is mixed with those pleasures falsely so called, which a dishonest love, an unlawful hist, gluttony, and drunkenness produce. At the same time I take no notice of the torment of conscience, enmity with God himself, and the expectation of eternal torment, which are the chiefest things of all. For, pray, do but con- sider what is in these pleasures that does not bring with it a whole troop of eternal evils? Sp. What are they? He. Not to mention covetousness, ambition, wrath, pride, envy, which of themselves are troublesome enough, let iis only compare those things that are in a special manner accounted pleasures.
When hard drinking throws a man into a fever, the headache, ​the gripes, dizziness, a bad name, decay of memory, vomiting, loss of appetite, and the palsy, would Epicurus himself think this was u pleasure worth seeking after] Sp. He would say it were to be shunned rather. He. When young men by whoring, as it commonly falls out, get the pox, which, by way of extenuation, they call the common garden gout, by which they are so often brought to death's door iii their life-time, and carry about a dead carcase, do they not epicurise gloriously? Sp. Yes, if coming often to the powdering tub be doing so. He. But now, suppose the pain and pleasure to be equal, would you be willing to bear the pain of the toothache as long as the pleasure of whoring or a drunken bout lasted 1 ? Sp. In truth, I had rather go without both, for to buy pleasure with pain is penance without gain. In this case, in my opinion, an utter avoXyco'/a, which Cicero calls an indolency, is much better. He. Bilt besides that, the titillation of unlawful pleasure, as it is much less than the pain it brings, so it is of shorter continuance. But when a man has once got the pox he is plagued with it all his life-time, and forced to suffer a sort of death a great many times over before his time comes to die. Sp. Epicurus himself would not own such persons for his disciples. He. Poverty is commonly the attendant of luxury, and that is a miserable and heavy burden to bear ; and a palsy, weakness of the nerves, sore eyes, and the pox, the consequents of immoderate venery ; and this is not all neither. Is it not a notable way of merchandising, to purchase a pleasure, neither real, solid, nor of long continuance, with s > many evils, greater and longer-lasting 1 Sp. If there were nothing of pain in the matter, I should think him a foolish trader who should barter jewels for bits of glass. He. And will you not say the same of them that lose the real enjoyments of the mind for the counterfeit pleasures of the body 1 ? Sp. Indeed, I think so.
lie. But let us come closer to the matter. Suppose that neither a fever nor poverty sjjould always accompany luxury ; nor a pox, nor palsy, whoring ; yet a guilty conscience, that you allow to be by far more wretched, is the inseparable companion of unlawful pleasure. tip. Nay, sometimes it goes before it, and galls the mind in the very fruition of it. But there are some, perhaps, you will say, that have no feeling in their conscience. He. Such are the more miserable; for who would not rather feel his pain, than have his body so stupefied as to have no sense of feeling ? But as some persons in their youth, by the exorbitancy of their lusts, are as it were drunk, and habituated to them, and like a callous grown insensible of their calamity ; yet when they come to old age, besides the innumerable evils they have treasured up in the time of their past life, death, the inevitable fate of mankind, starr ; them in the face with a terrible aspect ; and then the conscience is so mi:ch the more tormenting, by how much the more stupefied it has been all their life before. Then the soul is awakened, whether it will or no; old age, which of itself is a melancholy thing, as being obnoxious to many incommodities of nature ; how much more miserable and wretched is it, if a guilty conscience adds to its infelicity? Entertain- ments, club feasts, balls, amours, concerts of music, and those things that are delightful to them when young, will be burdensome to them when old.
Old age has nothing to support itself with, but the remembrance ​of a life innocently passed, and the hope of a better to come. These are the two crutches upon which old age is borne up ; therefore if you take these away, and in the stead of them put a double burden upon their shoulders, the remembrance of a life ill spent and despair of happiness to come, pray what living creature can be imagined more afflicted and more miserable 1 Sp. Indeed, I cannot see what, unless it be the old age of a horse. He. Then, indeed, is the stable-door shut when the steed is stolen ; and the old saying is a true one, " The end of mirth is heaviness," and " there is no delight equal to a glad heart." And again, " A merry heart doth good like a medicine, but a broken spirit drieth the bones." And again, " All the days of the afflicted are evil," i.e., afflicted and wretched. " A contented mind is a continual feast." Sp. Then they act wisely that get wealth betimes, and provide a viaticum for old age against it comes.
He. The holy scripture has not so low a sense as to measure man's happiness by outward enjoyments. He is poor, indeed, that is divested of all virtue, and owes both soul and body to the devil. Sp. And he, indeed, is a very severe creditor. He. He is truly rich who has God for his friend ; for what should he fear that has such a protector ? Should he be afraid of men ? The united power of all the men in the world is less to God than that of a gnat against an Indian elephant. Should he fear death 1 To godly men that is the way to eternal hap- piness. Should he fear hell ? A godly man says with confidence to God, " Though I walk in the region of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for thou art with me." Why should he be afraid of devils that carries Him in his breast at whom the devils tremble ? The scripture, which cannot be contradicted, in many places says, that the breast of a godly man is the temple wherein God dwells. /Sp. Indeed, I do not see how these things can be refuted, though they seem contrary to common sense. He. How so ? Sp. For, according to your way of reasoning, any Franciscan lives a life more pleasant than he that abounds with honours and, in a word, all kinds of delight. He. Nay, you may add the sceptre of a king, and the pope's triple crown too, and of a threefold crown make a hundredfold one, and except only a good conscience, and I will be bold to say that this bare- footed Franciscan, girt about with a rope full of knots, in a mean and ragged coat, worn to a skeleton with fasting, watching, and labours, and that is not worth a penny in the world, if he has but a good con- science, lives more deliciously a thousand times than Sardanapalus him- self? Sp. What is the reason, then, that we commonly see poor men look more melancholy than rich men? He. Because a great many are doubly poor. Indeed, diseases, want, watching, labour, and naked- ness do weaken the habit of the body. But the alacrity of the mind does not exert itself in these cases alone, but also in death itself. For the mind, although it is tied to a mortal body, yet it being of a more powerful nature, does after a sort transform the body into itself, espe- cially if the efficacy of the Spirit be added to the power of its nature. Hence it comes to pass that we frequently see men that are truly pious die with greater cheerfulness than others live. Sp. I have often wondered at that myself.
He. It is not at all to be wondered at that there should be an invincible joy where God the fountain of all joy is. What new thing ​is it that the mind of a pious man should always be cheerful in a mor- tal body, when the same man, if he should be plunged down to the lowest part of hell, would suffer nothing as to his felicity] Wheresoever is a good conscience, there is God ; wheresoever God is, there is para- dise ; where heaven is, there is happiness ; where happiness is, there is true joy and sincere alacrity. Sp. But for all that, they would live a more pleasant life if they were freed from some incommodities, and enjoyed some pleasures which they either set light by or cannot attain to. He. What incommodities are those you speak of ? Do you mean those things that are concomitants of humanity, as hunger, thirst, dis- tempers, weariness, old age, death, thunder, earthquakes, inundations, and wars 1 Sp. These among the rest. He. But now we are talking of immortal ones. And yet also in these calamities the condition of the godly is much more tolerable than that of those who hunt after bodily pleasures right or wrong. Sp. How so ?
He. Because their minds are inured to temperance and bearance, and therefore undergo those things which are inevitable more moder- ately than other persons. And lastly, in that they understand that all those things are sent by God, either for the purgation of their faults or the exercise of their virtue ; and therefore they take them not only patiently, but also willingly, as obedient children from the hand of a kind father, and are thankful either for His favourable correction or for the great advantage got by them. Sp. But there are a great many persons who bring bodily afflictions upon themselves. He. But more make use of physical medicines, either to preserve the health of the body or to recover it ; but to bring troubles upon themselves, viz., want, sickness, persecution, or reproach, unless Christian charity oblige to it, is not piety, but folly. But as often as they are inflicted for the sake of Christ or righteousness, who is he that dares to call them miserable, when the Lord himself calls them blessed, and bids them rejoice on account of them ? Sp. But for all that, they carry some- thing of torment in them.
He. They do so, but it is such a one that the fear of hell on the one side and the hope of heaven on the other easily overcomes. But, prithee, tell me if you did firmly believe that you should never feel any sickness or bodily pain all your life long, if you would but once suffer your skin to be pricked with a pin, would you not willingly and gladly suffer that little pain 1 Sp. If I were but sure I should never feel the toothache all my life, I would suffer my skin to be pricked deeper, and both my ears to be bored through with an awl. He. But whatsoever affliction happens in this life is more light and short, in comparison to eternal torments, than the momentary prick of a needle to the life of man, the longest that ever any man lived ; for there is no comparison between that which is finite and that which is infinite. Sp. You say very well. He. Now, suppose if you could be persuaded that you should live without trouble all your life long, if you did but dividfe the flame with your hand (which Pythagoras forbade to be done), would you not readily do it ? Sp. Yes, I would do it an hundred times, if he that promised me would be as good as his word.
He. God cannot be worse than His word ; but that sense of the flame is of longer continuance, if compared to the life of man, than all his life is compared to the happiness of heaven, though the life of ​that man should be three times as long as that of Nestor. For that putting the hand into the flame is some part of the life of man, let it be never so small a one ; but the whole life of a man is no part of eternity. Sp. I have nothing to say against it. He. Besides, they that hasten forwards with all their heart and a certain hope, when the way is so short, do you believe they are tormented with the troubles of this life ? Sp. I do not think they are, if they have a certain belief and firm hope of attaining to it.
He. I come now to those delights you took notice of : they abstain from balls, banquets, and plays ; they so despise them that they enjoy those that are much pleasanter. They do not take less pleasure, but they take it after another manner. " The eye has not seen, nor the ear heard, nor has it entered into the heart of man to conceive what comforts God has prepared for those that love Him." Blessed Paul was acquainted with the songs, dances, exultations, and banquets of pious minds in this life. Sp. But there are some lawful pleasures which they abridge themselves of.
He. The immoderate use of such pleasures as are in themselves lawful is unlawful, if you except that they who seem to live this austere life exceed others in enjoyment. What can be a more noble spectacle than the contemplation of this world 1 Men that are in God's favour take far more pleasure in that contemplation than other men ; for while they, out of curiosity, contemplate this wonderful fabric, they are perplexed in their minds because they cannot attain to the knowledge of the causes of many things. And in some cases, like Momus's, some murmur against the workman, often calling nature, which is indeed a mother, a stepmother, which reflection, though in word it be levelled against nature, yet rebounds on Him that is the author of nature, if indeed there is any such thing as nature. But a godly man, with religious and pure eyes, beholds the works of God his father with great pleasure of mind, admiring everything, finding fault with nothing, but giving thanks for all things, when he considers that all these things were made for man, and so in everything adores the omnipotence, wisdom, and goodness of the Creator, the footsteps of which he perceives in the things created. Imagine for once that there were really such a palace as Apuleius feigned for Psyche, or something more magnificent and fine, if it can be ; and suppose two spectators, one a stranger, who only came to see it, the other a servant, or a son of him that built it, which of them will take the greatest pleasure in the sight 1 the stranger who has nothing to do with the house, or the son who beholds the genius, wealth, and magnificence of a dear father in that building with great pleasure, especially when he reflects that all this fabric Was made for his own sake 1
Sp. Your question needs no answer ; but the greatest part that are not religious know not that heaven, and what is contained therein, was made for the sake of man. He. They all know it, but they do not all consider it ; and if it does come into their mind, yet he takes the most pleasure that loves the workman best, as he looks most cheerfully upon heaven that breathes after eternal life. /Sp. There seems to be a great deal of truth in what you say.
He. Now, as to banquets, the sweetness of them does not consist so much in the having a dainty palate, or in the seasonings of the cook, ​as the good state of the health of the body and the goodness of tho appetite. Therefore, do not think that any Lucullus sups more pleasantly upon his partridges, pheasants, turtledoves, hares, gilt- heads, sturgeons, or lampreys, than a godly man does upon brown bread, a salad, or pulse and water, or small-beer, or a little wine mixed with a great deal of water, because he receives them as sent from a kind Father. Prayer seasons them all, and the preceding thanksgiving sanctifies, and being accompanied with the reading of the Word of God, refreshes the mind more than meat does the body. And having returned thanks, at last he rises from the table, not stuffed, but recreated ; not loaded, but refreshed in mind as well as body. Do you think the contriver of any of those vulgar delicacies can fare more deliciously 1
Sp. But the highest pleasure is in venery, if we give credit to Aristotle. lie. Well, in this particular too, the advantage is on the pious man's side, as well as in feasting ; consider it thus : by how much the more ardent his love is toward his wife, by so much the more pleasurable are his conjugal embraces. And none love their wives better than those that love them as Christ loved His church; for they that love them for the sake of concupiscence do not love them in reality. But, besides, the seldomer is the enjoyment the pleasanter it is. The profane poet was not ignorant of this who said, Voluptatem commendat rarior usus. Although, indeed, that is the least part of the pleasure that consists in coition ; the far greater part of the pleasure is in their cohabiting and dieting together, which cannot be more pleasant be- tween any persons than between those who sincerely love one another with a Christian love. In other persons commonly pleasure growing old, so does love too ; but Christian Jove grows the more flourishing by how much carnal love decreases.
Well, have I not convinced you yet, that nobody lives more pleasantly than those that live piously ? Sp. I wish yon had so much convinced all persons as you have me. He. Well, then, if they are Epicureans that live pleasantly, none are more truly Epicureans than those that live holily and religiously. And if we are taken with names, nobody more deserves the name of an Epicurean than that adorable Prince of Christian philosophers, fpr tiriKOvpog in Greek signifies as much as an helper. Therefore, when the law of nature was almost erased by vice, and the law of Moses rather incited than cured lusts, when the tyrant Satan ruled without control in the world, He alone afforded present help to perishing mankind. So that they are mightily mistaken that foolishly represent Christ, as by nature, to be a rigid melancholic person, and that He invited us to an unpleasant life, when He alone shewed the way to the most comfortable life in the world, and fullest of pleasure, and so vastly distant from that Tantalean pleasure.
Sp. What is the meaning of that riddle ? lie. You will laugh at the romance ; but this jest will lead us on to something serious. Sp. Well, then, I expect to hear a serious jest. lie. Those who formerly made it their business to wrap up precepts of philosophy in the folds of fables tell us that one Tantalus was once admitted to the table of tin- deities, which, they tell you, is wonderfully stored with delicacies. When Jupiter was about to dismiss his guests, he thought it agreeable ​to his generosity to let none of them go away without some Loon ; thei'efore he bid Tantalus ask what he pleased, and it should be granted. And Tantalus being so foolish as to measure man's happiness by the pleasures of gluttony, wished that he might all his lifetime sit at a table so plentifully furnished. Jupiter consented, and granted him what he desired. Tantalus sits at a table furnished with all sorts of dainties : nectar is set before him ; neither roses nor odours are wanting, such as may delight the noses of the gods themselves ; Gany- mede stands by him to be his cup-bearer, or somebody like him ; the Muses stand about him singing sweetly; Silenus dances before him with ridiculous gestures, and likewise there are good store of jesters ; and, in short, there is whatsoever may delight the senses of a man. But in the midst of all these he sits melancholy, sighing and anxious, neither being moved by their merriment nor touching the provision i efore him. Sp. What is the reason of that ?
He. Because a great stone hangs over his head as he sits at supper, ready to fall upon him every moment. Sp. I would get away from such a table. He. But what he wished for is made necessary to him. Nor is Jupiter so placable as our God is, who rescinds the hurtful wishes of mortals if they repent of them. But the same stone that hinders Tantalus from feeding, frightens him from going away ; for he is afraid if he offer to stir lest the stone should fall upon him and crush him to pieces. Sp. A ridiculous story !
He. But now hear what you will not laugh at : the common people se^k for a pleasant life from external things, when nothing will produce that but a good conscience ; for a heavier stone hangs over the heads of those that have a guilty conscience than hangs over the head of Tan- talus himself ; nay, it does not only hang over their heads, but vexes and presses their minds ; nor is their mind tormented with a vain fear, but expects every hour when they shall be cast into hell. Pray, what can there be so pleasant in earthly things that can possibly cheer a mind that is pressed down with such a stone 1 Sp. Nay, nothing in the world but madness or incredulity. He. If youth did but consider this, who, being bewitched with pleasures like the cup of Circe, embrace sweetened poisons instead of things truly pleasant, how carefully would they beware lest by incogitancy they should do that which would perplex their mind all their lifetime ? What would they not do that they might provide this viaticum against old age which is drawing on, a good conscience and an untainted reputation ? What can be more miserable than that old age which, when it looks back, sees with great horror what beautiful things it has neglected, and what foul things it lias embraced 1 And again, when it looks forward, sees the last day hanging over its head, and immediately upon this the torments of hell.
Sp. I think they are the happiest men who have preserved the first part of their age undefiled, and improving in the study of piety have arrived to the goal of old age. He. And the next place is due to those who have early repented of their juvenile follies. Sp. But what advice will you give to that wretched old man 1 He. While there is life there is hope ; I would bid him fly to the arms of mercy. Sp. But by how much the longer a man has continued in an evil course of life, by so much a greater mass of iniquities is heaped up, that exceeds even the sands on the sea-shore. He. But then the mercies of God exceed ​them ; though man cannot number the sand, yet the number of them is finite, but the mercy of God knows neither bound nor end. tip. But there is but little time to one that is at the point of death. He. The less time he has the more ardently he ought to call upon God. That time is long enovigh with God that can reach from earth to heaven ; and a short prayer can penetrate heaven if it be but sent with a strong force of spirit. Mary Magdalene is recorded to have spent her whole life in repentance ; but the thief got a grant of paradise from our Saviour even at the point of death. If he shall but cry with his whole heart, My God, have mercy on me, according to the multitude of thy mercies, the Lord will remove that Tantalean stone, and make him hear that sound of joy and gladness ; the bones broken by contrition shall rejoice for the pardon of sins.