eyond the body, and outlive death by the privilege of their proper
natures, and without a miracle; that the souls of the faithful, as they
leave earth, take possession of heaven: that those apparitions and
ghosts of departed persons are not the wandering souls of men, but the
unquiet walks of devils, prompting and suggesting us into mischief,
blood, and villainy; instilling and stealing into our hearts that the
blessed spirits are not at rest in their graves, but wander solicitous
of the affairs of the world: but that those phantasms appear often, and
do frequent cemeteries, charnel-houses, and churches, it is because
those are the dormitories of the dead, where the Devil, like an insolent
champion, beholds with pride the spoils and trophies of his victory
in Adam.

This is that dismal conquest we all deplore, that makes us so often cry,
"Adam, quid fecisti?" I thank God I have not those strait ligaments, or
narrow obligations to the world, as to dote on life, or be convulsed and
tremble at the name of death: not that I am insensible of the dread and
horror thereof; or by raking into the bowels of the deceased, continual
sight of anatomies, skeletons, or cadaverous reliques, like vespilloes
or grave-makers, I am become stupid or have forgot the apprehension of
mortality; but that marshaling all the horrors, and contemplating the
extremities thereof, I find not anything therein able to daunt the
courage of a man, much less a well-resolved Christian; and therefore am
not angry at the error of our first parents, or unwilling to bear a part
of this common fate, and like the best of them to die--that is, to cease
to breathe, to take a farewell of the elements, to be a kind of nothing
for a moment, to be within one instant of a spirit. When I take a full
view and circle of myself without this reasonable moderator and equal
piece of justice, Death, I do conceive myself the miserablest person
extant: were there not another life that I hope for, all the vanities of
this world should not entreat a moment's breath from me; could the Devil
work my belief to imagine I could never die, I would not outlive that
very thought. I have so abject a conceit of this common way of
existence, this retaining to the sun and elements, I cannot think this
to be a man, or to live according to the dignity of humanity. In
expectation of a better, I can with patience embrace this life, yet in
my best meditations do often defy death: I honor any man tha