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Notes Hereafter, receive the Poison with an Air of Mirth and good Humour, and as if going on an
agreeable Journey bespeak some Deity to make it fortunate.
When Phocion’s good Actions had met with the like Reward from his Country, and he was led to
Death with many others of his Friends, they bewailing their Fate, he walking composedly towards
the Place of Execution, how gracefully does he support his Illustrious Character to the very last
Instant. One of the Rabble spitting at him as he passed, with his usual Authority he called to know
if no one was ready to teach this Fellow how to behave himself. When a Poor-spirited Creature
that died at the same time for his Crimes bemoaned himself unmanfully, he rebuked him with this
Question, Is it no Consolation to such a Man as thou art to die with Phocion? At the Instant when
he was to die, they asked him what commands he had for his Son, he answered, To forget this
Injury of the Athenians. Niocles, his Friend, under the same Sentence, desired he might drink the
Potion before him: Phocion said, because he never had denied him any thing he would not even
this, the most difficult Request he had ever made.
These Instances were very noble and great, and the Reflections of those Sublime Spirits had made
Death to them what it is really intended to be by the Author of Nature, a Relief from a various
Being ever subject to Sorrows and Difficulties.
Epaminondas the The ban General, having received in Fight a mortal Stab with a Sword, which was
left in his Body, lay in that Posture ‘till he had Intelligence that his Troops [had] obtained the Victory,
and then permitted it to be drawn [out], at which Instant he expressed himself in this manner,
This is not the end of my Life, my Fellow-Soldiers; it is now your Epaminondas is born, who dies
in so much Glory. It were an endless Labour to collect the Accounts with which all Ages have
filled the World of Noble and Heroick Minds that have resigned this Being, as if the Termination
of Life were but an ordinary Occurrence of it.
This common-place way of Thinking I fell into from an awkward Endeavour to throw off a real
and fresh Affliction, by turning over Books in a melancholy Mood; but it is not easy to remove
Griefs which touch the Heart, by applying Remedies which only entertain the Imagination. As
therefore this Paper is to consist of any thing which concerns Human Life, I cannot help letting the
present Subject regard what has been the last Object of my Eyes, tho’ an Entertainment of Sorrow.
I went this Evening to visit a Friend, with a design to rally him, upon a Story I had heard of his
intending to steal a Marriage without the Privity of us his intimate Friends and Acquaintance. I
came into his Apartment with that Intimacy which I have done for very many Years, and walked
directly into his Bed-chamber, where I found my Friend in the Agonies of Death. What could I do?
The innocent Mirth in my Thoughts struck upon me like the most flagitious Wickedness: I in vain
called upon him; he was senseless, and too far spent to have the least Knowledge of my Sorrow,
or any Pain in himself. Give me leave then to transcribe my Soliloquy, as I stood by his Mother,
dumb with the weight of Grief for a Son who was her Honour and her Comfort, and never till that
Hour since his Birth had been an Occasion of a Moment’s Sorrow to her. ‘How surprising is this
Change! from the Possession of vigorous Life and Strength, to be reduced in a few Hours to this
fatal Extremity! Those Lips which look so pale and livid, within these few Days gave Delight to all
who heard their Utterance: It was the Business, the Purpose of his Being, next to Obeying him to
whom he is going, to please and instruct, and that for no other end but to please and instruct.
Kindness was the Motive of his Actions, and with all the Capacity requisite for making a Figure
in a contentious World, Moderation, Good-Nature, Affability, Temperance and Chastity, were the
Arts of his Excellent Life. There as he lies in helpless Agony, no Wise Man who knew him so well
as I, but would resign all the World can bestow to be so near the end of such a Life. Why does my
Heart so little obey my Reason as to lament thee, thou excellent Man. ... Heaven receive him, or
restore him ... Thy beloved Mother, thy obliged Friends, thy helpless Servants, stand around thee
without Distinction. How much wouldst thou, hadst thou thy Senses, say to each of us.

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