Time hath spared the epitaph of Adrian's
horse, confounded that of himself. In vain we com-
pute our felicities by the advantage of our good
names, since bad have equal durations, and Thersites
is like to live as long as Agamemnon without the
favour of the everlasting register. Who knows
whether the best of men be known, or whether there
be not more remarkable persons forgot, than any
that stand remembered in the known account of time?
The first man had been as unknown as the last,
and Methuselah's long life had been his only
chronicle.
Oblivion is not to be hired. The greater part must
be content to be as though they had not been, to be
found in the register of God, not in the record of man.
Twenty-seven names make up the first story and the
recorded names ever since contain not one living cen-
tury. The number of the dead long exceedeth all that
shall live. The night of time far surpasseth the day,
and who knows when was the equinox? Every hour
adds unto that current arithmetick, which scarce stands
one moment.
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