The Parable of the Pilgrim, Parable · Chapter 28
CAP. XXVIII.
Of the Neceſſity of Friendſhip. Of faithful Counſel. How the Pilgrim doubted whether there was ſuch a place as Jeruſalem. The ſatisfaction which his Friend gave him in this particular. As alſo the comfort he adminiſtred to him in a great Sickneſs.
NOw the poor mans heart was filled with an inexpreſſible Joy, and he could ſcarce travel for a while by reaſon of this paſſion which was as troubleſome to him, as the contrary had been before. But having at laſt overcome the exceſs of it, and diſſembled it alſo while it ſtayd as well as he could, leſt his Friend ſhould think he was made up of nothing but contrariety and inconſtancy; On they went very merrily, ſinging ſeveral Hymns which they had learnt, for divers miles together. When they were ended; they fell into a very pleaſant diſcourſe about heavenly Poetry. And the good Father did highly extol thoſe Divine Souls, who had converted the Muſes, and of Courteſans and leud Strumpets made them turn Religious and Saintly Creatures. Surely, ſaid he, it was a brave and noble Act to reclaim them from ſuch a debauched life as they had a long time lead. It was a piece of very eminent ſervice to the world, to reform their impure ſpeech, and teach them the language of Angels. If there were a greater number of ſuch inſpired minds, one would think they ſhould convert the whole World, by pleaſing and inſtructing it both together.
After he had proceeded for ſome time in this ſtrain, the young Pilgrim took occaſion from thence to diſcourſe of the Harmony that is between ſome ſouls, and the ſweet conſent of two equal and well-proportion'd hearts, which he thought were able to interchange the greateſt felicities in the World. I have heard indeed, ſaid he, that it was the opinion of ſome of the ancient Sages, that a wiſe man ſtands in need of no body but himſelf, and that whatſoever is without him, is not at all needful to him. But ſure theſe were peeviſh and moroſe people, whom I cannot but condemn as guilty of one of the moſt dangerous Schiſms in the world. He was far wiſer, I think, that ſaid; If we look on men in general, they do not ſeem ſo much a great many ſeveral intire bodyes, as ſo many divided parts which Society reunites: I muſt needs confeſs, for my own part, that I feel my ſelf but half a man without a friend. I cannot but place him in the number of neceſſary, and not only of delightful things. It is the prerogative of God to need none but himſelf. It is too much for us to live alone, who incloſe ſo ſmall a portion of wiſdom and ſtrength within our Beings. I do not reckon my ſelf ſafe without your company. My felicity would be imperfect if you did not compleat it. I dare not ſo much as truſt my own thoughts unleſs you approve them; nor follow my own counſels unleſs you allow them.
And here he began to ſpeak of the neceſſity of faithful counſel, and that it was not to be procured without a friend. For though we love our ſelves never ſo well, yet a friend will be leſs treacherous to us, than we ſhall be to our ſelves. This brought to mind a Comment which was made by a wiſer man than any of thoſe ſullen pieces of gravity before-named, upon that old obſcure ſaying; Dry light is ever the beſt. Certain it is, ſaith he, That the Light which a man receives by counſel from another faithful perſon, is dryer and purer than that which cometh from his own underſtanding and judgment. For as that which he receives is ſeparate from all intereſt, ſo that which he gives himſelf is commonly infuſed and drenched in his Cuſtoms and Affections. So that there is as much difference between the counſel of a friend, and that which a man beſtows on himſelf, as between the counſel of a friend and of a flatterer. For there is no ſuch flatterer as in a mans ſelf; and there is no ſuch remedy againſt the flattery of a mans ſelf, as the liberty of a friend. And, as one thing uſually draws on another, this brought to his thoughts a handſome diſcourſe of another perſon whom he had met withall, which very well illuſtrated the reaſon of it; and was to this effect. Every man, we ſay, is neareſt to himſelf; but yet he is too near to be his own Counſellor in things which concern himſelf. There is not ſpace enough between both, wherein to debate the counſel which is given, and which is received. He cannot hinder thoſe two Reaſons which deliberate in him from confounding themſelves in communication; for that which propoſeth is too much mixt with that which concludes. He can find no place free wherein to weigh his Reaſons. But he propoſes thoſe which will favour his own humour, and then he inclines unto them, becauſe they are his own. He who counſels therefore muſt be another perſon diſtinct from him who is counſelled. The objects muſt be ſet at a proportionable diſtance from thoſe faculties which judge of them. And as the moſt quickſighted can never ſee themſelves; ſo the greateſt wits want perſpicacity in things that reſpect their own intereſt.
In ſuch delightful and uſeful talk as this they beguiled the time, and ſhortned the length of the wayes. And it was no ſmall contentment, you may well think, to the good old man, that he was poſſeſſed of ſuch a friend who could refreſh him with his apt diſcourſes, and give as well as receive inſtruction. But though the young Pilgrim was a perſon of ſuch competent abilities, and had ſo good a friend as this to aſſiſt him, imagining alſo when the firſt contract was made between them, that he ſhould now be no more diſturbed; yet he was not without ſome melancholy thoughts at certain ſeaſons, of which this, as I remember, was the chief. They two being talking one day about the Pleaſures of Jeruſalem, and the great happineſs they ſhould enjoy at their arrival there, which ought to ſweeten by its expectation all the difficulties of the way; he askt his companion with a very ſad and deſponding countenance, if it might not admit of ſome diſpute whether there was ſuch a place or no, and how he would prove the exiſtence of it.
At which Queſtion, becauſe he ſeemed to make a real doubt, the Father gave a very great ſtart, and ſaid with a more than ordinary vehemence: What? Are we now to begin again, and do you remain unſatisfied of that which was the firſt thing you learnt? What was it that made you ſtir one foot in this Journey, if you were not perſwaded you ſhould come to Jeruſalem? Or how came you to hold out thus long, and that you did not tyre many months ago? And did you not once, when you were tempted by ſome idle perſons to diſbelieve it, reject with anger all their frivolous allegations? Good God! What a thing is the Soul of man? How weak and infirm is our nature? How fickle and uncertain are our moſt ſerious thoughts? And what a great patience is it that we exerciſe every day? Surely if thy Love were not wider than the Circle of Heaven, we ſhould throw our ſelves out of the compaſs of it.— Say no more, ſaid the other (who here interrupted his ſpeech) for I am very ſenſible of the truth of what you affirm. The Soul of man is an object very worthy of your pitty, and whoſe ſtate can never be ſufficiently deplored. Nor do I know any Soul that deſerves it more than mine, which is made, it ſeems, to exerciſe your patience as well as God's. We cannot help it, I think (ſo ſhort and forgetful are our Thoughts) but we muſt go backward and forward. Sometimes we are confident, and ſometimes we are doubtful. Now we are merry, and preſently we are ſad even becauſe we were merry. Nothing will ſhake us in this temper, but in another a leaf or a feather will make us turn aſide. But do not, I beſeech you, upbraid unto me this miſery; which rather implores your charity to find a cure for it.
Well then, ſaid the other, in compliance with your neceſſity, let us ſtep back a little (which I hope will not prove a very great hinderance to us) and let us ſearch if we have fooliſhly undertaken this Journey to Jeruſalem. So he led him by the hand to a certain friend's houſe which they had not left much behind, and there (without accepting of any refection which was offered to them) preſently called for a certain Book which was full of Mapps attended with Diſcourſes of ſeveral Countries: in one of which was a deſcription of the promiſed land and the famous City Jeruſalem. And that he might be aſſured of the faithfulneſs of it, he bad him caſt his eye to the bottom, and there he ſhould find the name of the man that was the Author of thoſe fair Tables: and who ſhould that be, but Jeſus, together with a ſervant of his St. Paul who finiſhed by his direction what his Maſter had begun. There he found that the former of theſe perſons profeſſed that he came from Heaven, which he proved alſo by many Arguments of Divine Authority: and the latter that he was caught up into Paradiſe and the third Heavens, where he had a perception of ſuch things as could not be painted in thoſe Papers. And then turning over ſeveral leaves that treated of this Country; he ſhewed him ſuch an exact Deſcription of the Situation and Nature of the place, of the Quality of the Inhabitants, of the imployments wherein they are ingaged, of the Fruits of the Soil, of the Way that led to it, of the Travels of ſeveral perſons that had gone thither, of the return of one of them (even Jeſus himſelf) upon ſeveral occaſions into this World, and of the deſcent of Angels which aſſured men of it, together with the teſtimony of many undeniable Witneſſes (all ſervants of Jeſus) concerning the truth of theſe things, whom he alſo there examined over again before him; that he was aſhamed of his incredulity and bluſht to think that he had given him this new trouble. But above all, the Good man ſhow'd him that Jeſus by his laſt Will and Teſtament had made over an inheritance in Jeruſalem to all his faithful Followers. And that he had ſealed and ratified this Will with his own deareſt blood. And that God had ſet to it his Seal alſo, by raiſing him from the dead and giving him Glory at his own right hand. And that this was demonſtrated and that Deed of Chriſt further eſtabliſhed, by the ſending of the Holy Ghoſt upon the Apoſtles and thoſe to whom they Preached. For this made it evident, ſaid he, that Jeſus is Crowned King in Jeruſalem from whence he ſent theſe Royal gifts to men, and it is the earneſt of our inheritance; and by it we are ſealed to the day of Redemption. All which and much more for his further ſatisfaction and better remembrance he afterward got one to compriſe in a little Book; wherein was ſhown that This is the record which God hath given of his Son, that in him we have eternal life. It would make my relation too long if I ſhould tranſcribe that Treatiſe, which is alſo come to my hands; and therefore I ſhall only acquaint you with the concluſion of their diſcourſe on this argument, which was to this purpoſe. And now, ſaid the Father, if you call in queſtion the credit of this Story concerning Jeſus becauſe you never ſaw him; I would wiſh you to take heed leſt you be a teacher of Rebellion and learn men to juſtifie Sedition againſt their lawful Soveraign. For if we muſt entertain nothing but what we our ſelves ſee; then the Rabble may do well to ſay; they have no King becauſe they never ſaw his face; nor hath he yet gone his Progreſs among them: and that there are no Laws that oblige them, becauſe they were not preſent when they were enacted, nor heard his Majeſty ſay, The King Will, or that he conſented to them. For my part I cannot ſee leſs reaſon to believe, that our Lord was miraculouſly conceived, uſhered into the World by a Star and the ſhouts of the Heavenly hoſts, annointed with the Holy Ghoſt at his Baptiſm, tranſfigured on the holy Mount, confeſſed by Devils, acknowledged by Angels, juſtified by Miracles, raiſed from the Dead, and taken up to Glory; then our children will have to believe that our preſent Soveraign after a long baniſhment was ſuddenly reſtored to his Throne, that he entred his Royal City on ſuch a day with the joyful acclamations of all his people; that he rode in Triumph and was ſolemnly Crowned the year following; and that the Book containing a deſcription of the Magnificent Ceremonies of that day, gives a true and juſt account of them. They that would perſwade you to doubt of the truth of the holy Writings which conveigh the notice of thoſe great things to you, and whereby you hold all the hopes you have of happineſs at Jeruſalem; may in time think their wits ſo fine as to go about to prove that the Great Charter of England is but a forged Deed, that all the Liberties you think you have are but the Idols of your own brain, or that the whole Writing by factious ſpirits hath been corrupted and altered at their pleaſure. And if you ſhould ſay, that there are ſo many Arguments to ſtop their mouths that they will be aſhamed of ſuch fooliſh talk; for Kings have ſealed it, and Parliaments confirm'd it, and all Engliſh men have a long time aſſerted it; you will find your ſelf much miſtaken and ſee that theſe allegations are not conſiderable with ſuch diſputes. For ſo have theſe holy books (as I eſteem them) been ever received for the Apoſtolical Writings; none could ever prove them guilty of any impoſture; nor do their greateſt enemies charge them with the crime of reporting falſe Miracles; yea the Jews acknowledge them to have been wrought, and Heathen writers have ſet their hands to ſome things of no mean account; and yet theſe are not ſufficient with ſuch men to prove them true becauſe they did not ſtand at the Apoſtles elbows when they were pen'd and ſent abroad into the World. And therefore what is the confeſſion of all England worth to prove your Liberties; ſince the confeſſion of the whole Chriſtian World for ſo many ages is not worth a ſtraw with them to prove theſe Writings? If they will not let you have a Jeſus becauſe they did not ſee him; why ſhould they ſuffer you to enjoy any other things which they can take away upon the ſame pretence? But if they will permit you to enjoy the benefit of any antient Deeds, when nothing can be juſtly excepted againſt them; then we hope that it is lawful to call the Goſpel (as one of the Antients doth) our new Conveyance whereby Jeſus hath ſetled upon us an everlaſting inheritance in the Heavenly Country, of far greater value then that which the Iſraelites by Vertue of the old writings poſſeſſed in the earthly.
Here the young Traveller pluckt him by the ſleeve beſeeching him to make no longer ſtay in that place, for, ſaid he, you have diſſipated all my clouds already and I am fully perſwaded that there is ſuch a City as Jeruſalem. Though I doubted a little of it, yet let me not be ſuſpected of Infidelity. I proteſt to you that I bear ſuch a reverend regard to theſe Writings which you have laid before me, that I would rather loſe all the goods I have in the World then part with them. I have a long time held them ſo Sacred that they have been my comforters in all my troubles, and the ſongs of my Pilgrimage. At this very moment I carry them about me and ſhall hereafter ſet a greater value on them; for what I have held by Cuſtome I ſhall now hold by Reaſon, and be able to render an account to thoſe that aſk of the Hope that is in me. Let us go on Sir I intreat you without any further diſpute, and howſoever negligent I have been in former times I am reſolved hereafter to read this Holy Book with more attention of Mind: and to procure thereby that this ſhort ſtay may not make me come a whit the later to my journeys end.
It is very well done, ſaid the Father, that you have provided your ſelf with ſo neceſſary a companion as that Book is: which might ſerve to direct you without me, but that I ſee you are not ſufficiently acquainted with the language of it. When you read of the Witneſs of the Spirit, its like you waited for ſome immediate aſſurance of the truth of theſe writings. And when you heard them ſpeak of our being ſealed with the holy Spirit of promiſe, you lookt for an inſpiration, and expected to be ſtampt and impreſſed with a certain perſwaſion of their Authority. Which is as much as to ſay, that you deſired to be endued with a confidence, which as it ſtood upon no ground, ſo might be ſhaken without any cauſe at all. But I pray you hereafter to be as good as your word, applying your mind more vigorouſly to comprehend the ſenſe of what you read; and where you doubt of any thing, repair to me, that I may aſſiſt your Underſtanding. And above all things let me once for all adviſe you to uſe all means to ſtrengthen your faith concerning the other Life, and to aſſure your ſelf upon ſuch evidence as I have given you, that Jeſus is gone to Jeruſalem, and there expects your coming to him. Do but firmly perſwade your heart of this, and keep it in your mind, and then I ſhall think it as impoſſible for you to grow weary, as for the Sun to ſtand ſtill; and as impoſſible you ſhould miſcarry, as that the Sun ſhould fall from his Orb.
After he had received a promiſe from him, that he would do his endeavour to make his Soul more ſenſible of this weighty thing: they buckled themſelves afreſh to their march. And never did the young man travel ſo luſtily as now; for he had gathered much ſtrength by his doubting; and thought he felt himſelf attracted and haled towards Heaven by the glory of it which now ſhone upon him; juſt as the Loadſtone draws Iron to it, and makes it skip into its Boſome. If I ſhould ſay that he ran now rather then went, I ſhould miſreport the fervours wherein he felt himſelf; which indeed furniſhed him with Wings, and made him not ſo much to run, as fly towards the Holy City of God. He was all aiery, and ſeemed not to touch the Earth with his feet: and as for his own Fleſh, he had ſo many Spirits, that it was no more a Burden to him then the Feathers are to a Bird, which rather help then hinder it in its flight. But yet (ſo mutable is this Body of ours) he had not flown very long, being aſſiſted by every thing that he ſaw, or heard, or met withal, before he was made ſenſible that he was cloathed with a greater weight of Fleſh then he imagined; and that this Globe Earth had a greater power over him then he was willing to believe. For he was ſeized with ſuch a violent ſickneſs, and felt his blood in ſuch a boiling heat; that he thought now he was not in the Air, but at the beſt in a thick cloud of ſtinking vapours which almoſt choaked his Vital ſpirits. He had not mounted up to ſo high a pitch before, but he fancied now that he was ſunk as low; and that the Terreſtrial parts prevailed, if not far more, yet as much as the Aerial had lately done. Very often he laboured to heave up himſelf; and left no means unattempted to ſoar aloft as he was wont; but all in vain, for he was ſo oppreſſed and over-loaded with that ſluggiſh matter which now flowed through his whole Body, that he could ſcarce fetch his breath, unleſs it were in ſighs and groans at the alteration which he ſuffered. Juſt as a veſſel of good Wine which now being ſweet and pleaſant, is rendred ere long acid and ungrateful to our palate, by the aſcent and flowing of thoſe ſaline particles which before were thruſt down or put aſide: So was his Spirit ſowred and rendred unacceptable to himſelf, by the floating again of thoſe ill humours, which he hoped had been buried in their graves, never to riſe and diſturb him any more.
It would be both too tedious and too ſad, to relate all the affliction which he endured from his dejected thoughts; And I ſhall rather chuſe to tell you how his companion addreſſed himſelf to his Cure, whereby you will underſtand ſufficiently the nature of his diſeaſe. I am ſorry to ſee you thus ill (ſaid his kind Phyſitian when he firſt came to him) but it is no more then I expected; and it would not much trouble me, if I did not find your mind more diſordered then your body. I will not add ſo much to your pain, as to bid you tell me what it is that troubles you; for I am not ſo unacquainted with theſe diſtempers, but that I perceive the ſymptomes of a mind much grieved, becauſe it cannot think of Jeſus and Jeruſalem with the ſame freedome and pleaſure, that it did not long ago. This I eaſily ſee is the ſickneſs you labour under; and ſetting aſide the anguiſh which this creates, I do not believe you have any reaſon to complain. But I pray you, my Dear Brother, do you not think of our Lord very much, when you are Patient and quietly reſigned to his Will in every thing? Are you not much in his company when you take up your Croſs with a meek Spirit, ſaying, Not my will, but thine be done? For what was Jeſus, but a great Example of Patience and humble ſubmiſſion to the pleaſure of God throughout the whole courſe of his Life? Why do you then place the contentment of your heart in being able to pray with your wonted intention, and to contemplate Divine things with ſuch a clearneſs as when you were in the pure ſky; and not rather in accompliſhing the Will of our Lord, who knows what place is beſt for us and what condition will moſt certainly conduce to our Good? Let me ask you; is not this ſickneſs now come upon you by his appointment, and ſent by the direction of his wiſe providence? Do you not think it to be his will, that the time which not long ago was ſpent in praying, ſhould now be ſpent in vomiting? Let it be ſo then (as a good man was wont to ſay) and let us not mutter at it: but ſee you take more pleaſure in this that he is pleaſed, then if you poſſeſſed Heaven and Earth. And ſuppoſe this be a puniſhment for ſome offence, and that now he chaſtiſes ſome inordinate deſire; for I diſcern, me thinks, an indication of ſome ſuch ſcruple that moleſts your thoughts: what have you more to do in that caſe but to be thankful, and to caſt your ſelf at his feet, deſiring both correction and forgiveneſs. To be thankful I ſay, becauſe we are much beholden to him, that he will put himſelf to the trouble of finding out means of our amendment. Nay, ſome pious men have thought, that to be corrected by the hand of ſuch a Father, and with ſo much love, doth put us rather into a need of Humility for the moderating our joy which we ſhall be apt to conceive in his Charity towards us; than of the Vertue of Patience whereby to endure the Puniſhment that he layes upon us. For is it not a great favour that he will look after us? Is it not a mark of his eſteem that he thinks it worth his pains to uſe his Rod to reclaim us? And would you have him be ſo fond as to let you proceed to commit thoſe faults, which he knows will utterly ſpoil you? Should he love you if he did forbear his ſtripes, when he ſees there is great need of ſuch ſharp inſtruments to reform you? Or do you think he delights to afflict, and takes a greater pleaſure to hear you cry and roar under his hand, than to hear you ſing and rejoyce in his arms? It is unchriſtian to impute unto him ſuch Cruelty. You cannot without impiety imagine, either that he will not chaſtiſe his children in order to make them ceaſe to offend; or that he will not grant a pardon when they humbly bow their wills to his, and ask it of him. No queſtion he will do both when cauſe requires; and though ſometimes he gives a pardon without any correction, yet never the correction without an intent to pardon. Lye ſtill therefore under his Fatherly hand, and then I aſſure you there is greater reaſon both to be thankful, and alſo to expect a pardon; becauſe you are much amended when your own will is ſo broken, that you can ſubmit to any of his Rods.
But here I muſt not forget to admoniſh you of one thing, which I have ſomewhere read in the advices of a grave Perſon, which is; To take great heed that your fleſh do not deceive and cheat you with its diſſimulations while you are in this ſtate; endeavouring to ſlubber over negligence under the pretext of, I cannot do any more. It is true, we are not tyed to that which we cannot do; but yet the fleſh will ſometimes juggle and complain of impotence, when there is nothing hinders us but only Sloth. Here you muſt look upon your ſelf with a great many eyes; you muſt become your own ſpy, and narrowly watch the moſt ſecret motions of your heart. For this Eve that is within us, is ſo deſirous to be cheriſhed and pleaſed, to be walking up and down the Garden, and to be eating of the forbidden fruit; that ſhe wants not a thouſand inventions to make us believe that her demands do not extend to ſuperfluities, but only to things neceſſary for us; that ſhe doth not deſire eaſe and pleaſure ſo much as reſt from hard labours; and ſhe is in a mighty chafe if we will not give a perfect credit to her. She perſwades us ſometime that we are much weaker than in truth we can affirm our ſelves to be: She tells us that we cannot with ſafety think of any thing elſe but her, and is not willing to let us make a tryal: She bids us attend only to her quiet and ſatisfaction, and not ſuffer the mind to diſturb her repoſe at all: And the more we humour and gratifie her deſires, the more ſtill ſhe bemoans her ſelf to move our pitty towards her. It concerns us therefore to be careful in obſerving what good it is that we can then perform without a manifeſt prejudice to our health, and to make proviſion that it be not neglected by means of the heavy complaints of lazineſs and ſloth. Look up unto Jeſus as often as you can. Tell him in the ſecrets of your ſoul that you heartily love him. Open your very boſome to him, and ſhew how deſirous you are to be more conform'd unto him by this affliction. Pray him to come and ranſack your heart, and to throw out of doors, whatſoever is offenſive to him. Let him know that you had rather (not only be ſick, but) dye a thouſand times than not be friends with him. And ſo entreat him to take pitty upon you. Promiſe him to do whatſoever he would have you. And exhort all others of your acquaintance, that they would love and ſerve him more than you can do. And this let me add for your comfort, that ſometimes he beſtows more favours upon ſick men in their Beds, who can pray in no other manner, but by the humiliations and proſtrate ſubmiſſions of their Wills to him; than he doth upon ſome others who ſpend many hours on their bended knees in that holy exerciſe. And do not deſpair, I beſeech you, of receiving this mercy, though you think your ſelf never ſo unworthy of it, ſince it coſts him no more, but only his Will to beſtow it.
With theſe, and ſuch like Diſcourſes, the Good man entertained his friend in this ſickneſs for many dayes; which put the time into a ſpeedier pace than otherwiſe it would have paſſ'd away. Though he kept his Bed for ſome weeks, yet the hours did not ſeem at all tedious to him, but rather fled away as faſt, as he uſed before to do himſelf. So happy a thing it is to have a partner in our troubles, and the aſſiſtance of another ſhoulder beſide our own to bear our griefs. Good Diſcourſes are like the breath of Heaven, which when the burdned Veſſel feels, ſhe cuts her way through all the waves, and never complains of the greatneſs of her burden. Nay, they proved to him like the cool Air which refreſhes the gaſping Traveller in a hot day; making his very body feel its leggs the ſooner, by the delicate touches which they gave unto his Spirit. All the Art of his Doctors, and an whole Apothecaries ſhop had not been able to reſtore his conſumed fleſh ſo eaſily, and in ſuch a little ſpace of time; as theſe Soveraign Cordials which diſtilled from the Good mans lips, and were drawn, he felt, from the very bottome of his heart. I have wondred ſometimes when I conſidered the ſuddenneſs of his recovery; for though he lay ſome weeks in a feeble condition, it was becauſe he did not at firſt receive theſe Medicines; which ſo ſoon as he taſted, he became another man, and ſeemed to have a New Eſſence infuſed into him. It is no new piece of Philoſophy, but an Axiome older than Hippocrates, and which calls Solomon (that great Phyſician) its Father; Heavineſs in the heart of man maketh it ſtoop: Pro. 12.25but a good word maketh it glad. And in another place of his Aphoriſms we read, that, A merry heart doth good to a Medicine: Pro. 17.22but a broken ſpirit dryeth the bones.