very summit of absurdity, whilst unarmed men were a terrour to him, he trusted his life to the fidelity of a military guard; and all, who came into his presence, were searched for weapons, though he lived surrounded by the weapons of his soldiery: so that he fled from unarmed to armed men, and again from the armed to the unarmed: for he was defended from the populace by his body-guard; and from his body-guard, by eunuchs. Thus, without confidence and without refuge, there was no man, with whom he could pass a single day disengaged from terrour. His meat and drink were a cause of perpetual suspicion, so that previous tasters were employed; as scouts are sent before in a road infested by an enemy. Nay, even on his dearest relatives could he not repose with comfort and security; neither on wife, nor children. Yet, though royalty was accompanied by such vexations and infelicities, he had neither inclination nor power to dismiss the incumbrance from him; whereas all other calamities of men admit some consolation in the prospect of a temporary respite. The prisoner expects his liberty at some future period; to an exile there is always a possibility of return to his native country; the sick entertain hopes of recovery to the last moment of their lives; but for this monarch no means of deliverance can be found. They too, whom For

tune has afflicted by the death of friends, well know, that Time will at length mitigate their but his disquietudes crowd upon him with perpetual encrease,

sorrow;

Nor is it easy for a tyrant to attain old-age ; because the generality of his subjects have either been ill-treated by him, or hold him in contempt, whilst his infirmities disable him from self-defence. Now all these calamities are more calculated in their nature to alarm under expectation, than afflict in experiment; whether poverty, or exile, or imprisonment, or disgrace. As for death itself, if a man be able to annihilate the apprehension of it, nothing formidable is left; but this apprehension is so distressing, as to have induced many men to anticipate the catastrophe (s). Thus, in a storm at sea, some have laid violent hands upon themselves, without staying for the sinking of the vessel; and some by their own sword have prevented the sword of any enemy, though this, they well knew, was in itself the extremity of suffering. But this species of disquietude is perpetually haunting tyrants, by day and by night. A condemned criminal sees before him an appointed hour, that will terminate his sufferings; but their time of dissolution is uncertain, whether it will shortly come, or whe-. ther it be already present; nor is the smallest

interval exempted from this fear, but an equal necessity of apprehension is upon them, at their meals, and at their sacrifices to the Gods. If at any time they should relax in pleasure, and indulge their love even with their greatest favourite, Death is ever uppermost in their thoughts, as intended for them, perhaps, by the fondest object of their affection; this distressing fear pursues them to their banquet and their bed. On this account, a tyrant, I should suppose, would deem that his most happy moment, in which he feels the stroke of the assassin, as a deliverance from his severest torment. But, which is the strongest circumstance of all, other men are sensible, that their incurable calamities can be but of short duration, unless self-destruction be made impossible; whilst tyrants, though environed by the greatest evils, mistakenly suppose themselves in the possession of the greatest bliss, as the objects of admiration from mankind. Such ignorant infatuation has God associated with that condition for it's everlasting torment!

Moreover, to men in prosperity life is preferable, and death for the same reason is more unwelcome as the unfortunate, on the other hand, support life with greater uneasiness, and hold themselves in constant readiness for their departure; but tyrants in both these cases are

unhappier than other men; for they live more unpleasantly than those, who are ever so solicitous to die, and yet fear death, as if their condition in this life were supremely happy. When those pleasures also, which are enjoyed but seldom, produce the most exquisite delight (1), but by frequent use become distasteful; when miseries again are rendered insupportable by perpetual continuance: both these conditions of pleasure and of misery are uninterruptedly present to the tyrant; uneasiness without cessation, and pleasure without perception of enjoyment. The rich are dreaded by him for their power; the poor, for their desire of riches.

To kings alone no gratitude is paid for the favours, which they confer, because such favours are thought inadequate; and those, who fail in the attainment of their requests, are converted into most bitter enemies: not to mention, that men in proportion to their opulence are objects of envy, however justly that opulence may have been acquired: tyrants of course excite envy above all mankind. Add to this the necessity of gratifying all around him, if he mean to shun instantaneous destruction: but all cannot easily be gratified, without robbing others these are converted into enemies, while the objects of his favour are suspected,

and eager to abandon him. Thus, what is distant, he fears for that very reason; and what is near, because it is about his person. From the remote, he is expecting war; from those at hand, conspiracy. Peace he regards as inexpedient, because it gives leisure to his subjects; and war, because they are necessarily burthened with supplies, and harassed by military hardships. Thus, in war, his affections are set on peace; and, when peace is accomplished, he immediately employs himself in contriving war.

In a state of public plenty, tyrants dread the insolence of the common people; in a time of scarcity, their resentment. They see no safety for themselves, whether abroad or at home, in public or in the palace; neither can they frequent any place with confidence: all are beset with plot and treachery.

Every monarch of this kind is always ruminating on the assassinations and conspiracies against tyrants, through the whole series of former ages: all which he supposes to be preparing for himself, and thus lives in a perpetual apprehension of enduring all those deaths of his predecessors. He looks round, and turns himself on all sides, with unremitting horrour, and is guarding every moment against the blow, which he believes ready to fall upon him from