Gospel-conversation

1. Oh the perplexity of Spirit that any worldly man will have, when Death comes, when he shall see an end of all the comforts of this world, now farewell house, and lands, and friends and acquaintance, and all merry meetings, and jovialities, I shall never have comfort more in you. As it was the speech of Pope Adrian, when he was to die; O thou my soul! my soul! whither art thou going? whither art thou going? thou shalt never have more jests, nor be merry, nor be jocund any more; where art thou going? So may a man that hath his portion in this world here, say at his death, Where is this poor soul of mine going? I have lived here thus many years, and I have had many merry meetings, and I have eaten of the fattest, and drunk of the sweetest, and gone in brave array, but now my day is gone, what shall become of me? what peace have I now when all is gone? I remember Latimer hath such a story in one of his Sermons that he preached before King Edward, he tells a story of a rich man, that when he lay upon his sick bed, there came one to him, and tells him that certainly by all reasons they can judg by, That he was like to be a man for another world, a dead man: As soon as ever he hearts but these words, (they are Latimers words, I only repeat them as his words, and they were before a King, and so they will not be too broad words, nor too rude to speak before you; as soon as ever he did but hear this) What must I die? send for a Physician; wounds, sides, heart, must I die? wounds, sides, heart, must I die? and thus he goes on; and there could be nothing got from him, but wounds, sides, heart, must I die? must I die, and go from all these▪ here was all; here is the end of this man, that makes his portion to be in this world. Another rich man that lived not far from the place that I my self lived in heretofore, when he heard his sickness was deadly, he sends for his bags of money, and hugs them in his arms, Oh! must I leave you? Oh! must I leave you? And another, that when he lay upon his sick bed, calls for his bags, and lays a bag of gold to his heart, and then bids them take it away, it will not do, it will not ⟨p. 340⟩do. Another when he lay upon his sick bed, his friends came to him and said, What lack you? what would you have? would you have any Beer? want you any thing? Oh no, (saith he) I want only one thing, Peace of Conscience; that I would have:

1. Oh the perplexity of Spirit that any worldly man will have, when Death comes, when he shall see an end of all the comforts of this world, now farewell house, and lands, and friends and acquaintance, and all merry meettings, and jovialities, I shall never have comfort more in you. As it was the speech of Pope Adrian, when he was to die; O thou my soul! my soul! whither art thou going? whither art thou going? thou shalt never have more jests, nor be merry, nor be jocund any more; where art thou going? So may a man that hath his portion in this world here, say at his death, Where is this poor soul of mine going? I have lived here thus many yeers, and I have had many merry meetings, and I have eaten of the fattest, and drunk of the sweetest, and gone in brave array, but now my day is gone, what shall become of me? what peace have I now when all is gone? I remember Latimer hath such a story in one of his Sermons that he preached before King Edward, he tels a story of a rich man, that when he lay upon his sick bed, there came one to him, and tels him that certainly by all reasons they can judg by, That he was like to be a man for another world, a dead man: Assoon as ever he hearts but these words, (they are Latimers words, I only repeat them as his words, and they were before a King, and so they will not be too broad words, nor too rude to speak before you; assoon as ever he did but hear this) What must I die? send for a Physitian; wounds, sides, heart, must I die? wounds, sides, heart, must I die? and thus he goes on; and there could be nothing got from him, but wounds, sides, heart, must I die? must I die, and go from all these here was all; here is the end of this man, that makes his portion to be in this world. Another rich man that lived not far from the place that I my self lived in heretofore, when he heard his sickness was deadly, he sends for his bags of money, and hugs them in his arms, Oh! must I leave you? Oh! must I leave you? And another, that when he lay upon his sick bed, cals for his bags, and laies a bag of gold to his heart, and then bids them take it away, it will not do, it will not