John Trapp on Ecclesiastes 2:18

Verſ. 18. Yea, I hated all my labour] i. e. I was ſorry to think, that I had been ſo eager and earneſt in getting a great eſtate, which now I muſt leave, and to whom I know not; ſure I am, to thoſe that never took any pains for it. And herein we ſee the corruption of our nature diſcover it ſelf, in that we are ſo wedded to the things of this world (eſpecially if gotten by our own art and induſtry) that we think much to bee divorced from them by death, and to leave them to others, when our ſelves can enjoy them no longer. Henry Beauford that rich and wretched Cardinal, Biſhop of Wincheſter, and Chancellor of England, in the reign of Henry 6. when hee perceived that hee muſt dye,Act. & Mon. fol. 925. and that there was no remedy, murmured at death, that his riches could not reprieve him till a further time. For he asked, wherefore ſhould I dye, being ſo rich? If the whole Realm would ſave my life, I am able either by policy to get it, or by riches to buy it. Fye, (quoth he) will not death bee hired? will money doe nothing?

Latimer, in a Sermon before King Edward the 6. tells a ſtory of a rich man, that when hee lay upon his Sick bed, there came one to him and told him, that certainly, by all reaſon they can judge by, hee was like to be a man for another world, a dead man. As ſoon as ever he hears but theſe words (ſaith Latimer) What muſt I dye? ſaid he, ſend for a Phyſician; wounds, ſides, heart, muſt I dye? wounds, ſides, heart, muſt I dye? and thus he goes on, and there could bee nothing got from him, but wounds, ſides, heart, muſt I dye? Muſt I dye and goe from theſe? here was all: here's the end of a man that made his portion to bee in this world. If this mans heart had been ript up a[illegible: 1 letter]ter hee was dead, there might have been found written in it, The God of this preſent world.

Serm. on Pſal. 17.14. April 3. 1643. before the L. Maior.Mr. Jeremy Burroughes relates in print of another rich man, that had ſometime lived neer unto him; who, when hee heard his ſickneſs was deadly, ſent for his bags of mony, and hugg'd them in his arms, ſaying: Oh! muſt I leave you? Oh! muſt I leave you? And of another, who when hee lay upon his ſick bed, called for his bags, and laid a bag of gold to his heart, and then bad them take it away, it will not do, it will not do.

Mr. Rogers in his Treatiſe of love, tels of one, that being near death, clapt a twenty ſhillings peece of gold into his own mouth, ſaying, Some wiſer than ſome, Ile take this with mee, howſoever.