firft telling us what we fhould avoid, and then telling us what we should pursue; what our discourse ought not to be, and next what it ought to be. Therefore, I shall

I. Difcourfe of the vices of the tongue, from the former part of my text: Let no corrupt communication proceed out of your mouth.

II. Of its duty and proper employment, from the latter words; But that which is good to the use of edifying, that it may minifter grace unto the bearers.

I. Let us confider the vices of the tongue : Let no corrupt communication proceed out of your mouth. By this are forbidden all flander, calumny, and detraction; all vain, trifling, ufelefs, and impertinent converfation.

As to the quantity of our discourse, there can be no certain measure, or just rule prefcribed for it. It is as lawful, and fometimes as prudent, to tell a long ftory as a short; and two as well as one; and fometimes ten as well as two. All fuch difcourses are to take their eftimate by the

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matter

matter and the end, and can only be altered by their circumftances and appendages. Much speaking is fometimes neceffary, fometimes useful, fometimes pleasant; and when it is none of all this, tho' it be tedious and imprudent, yet it is not always criminal.

There are certain ages and tempers that are more inclinable than others, to exceed in the measures of prudence and civil converfation. Young perfons, and those who are old, are both of them concerned to feparate from themselves the common reproach of their age; that modefty of speech be the ornament of the youthful, and a reserved discourse be the teftimony of the old man's prudence. A young man, it hath been obferved, is a talker for want of wit, and an old man for want of memory; for while he remembers the things of his youth, and not how often he hath told them in his old age, he grows in love with the trifles of his youthful days, and thinks his hearers must do fo too; but he establisheth his folly, and by ftriving to bring reputation to his first days, he loses the honour of his last.

But

But this thing is confiderable to further iffues. For tho' no man can fay, that much speaking is a fin, yet is a fin, yet fin often accompanies it, or follows after it. For it is impoffible but a long and frequent difcourse must be served with many paffions, and they are not always innocent. For he that loves to talk much, muft fcrape up materials of all kinds. Some talk themselves into anger; and some furnish out their discourses with the lives of others. They cenfure or detract, or else they flatter themselves, and tell their own ftories with friendly circumftances, and pride creeps up the fides of the difcourfe In short, felf love and flattery, malice and spite, impertinence and vanity, usually wait upon much speaking. And the reward of it is, that the perfons grow contemptible and troublesome, they engage in quarrels, and are concerned to answer exceptions. Some will mistake them, and some will not believe them, and it will be impoffible that the mind fhould be perpetually prefent to perpetual talkers, but they will forget truth, and themselves, and their own difcourfes.

But in all the ways in which a man can do good to himself, or to his neighbour, he hath his liberty. He is only to secure his words from being criminal, and then he may reckon it lawful to difcourfe freely, whilst he can inftruct, or even please his neighbour. He may difcourfe himself into a friendship, or help to preferve it. He may ferve the works of art or nature; of bufinefs, public or private. He may increase learning, or confirm his obfervations. He may serve the ends of civility. He may speak the praises of the Lord, by discourfing of any of the works of the creation. He may counsel or teach, reprove or admonish, inculcate a precept, or disgrace a vice.

But, generally, man's life is too short for long difcourfes. However we may be weary of fome parts of our time, yet we are impatiently troubled when all is gone. And we must account for every portion of it. No man, therefore, ought to think it a light matter, that he spends his time in impertinent discourse; or to be weary of that which flies away too fast, and cannot be recalled; fo as to use arts and devices to pass the time away

away in vanity, which might be better spent in the interests of eternity. Time is given us to repent in, to appease the divine anger, to prepare for and haften to the fociety of angels, to ftir up our devotions, to forrow for our iniquities, and to figh after and work for the reftitution of our spiritual state. And the reward is very inconfiderable, that exchanges all this for the pleasure of impertinent difcourfe. And indeed this is an evil that cannot be avoided, by any excufe that can be made for words that are useless, tho' in their own nature they may be innocent. They are a throwing away fomething of that which is to be expended for eternity; and put on degrees of folly, according as they are 'tedious, and expensive of time to no good purposes.

Against these, prudence is no guard. Prudence, indeed, gives us rules, and proportions out our measures, and prefcribes us cautions; but he that is given to talk, cannot be fecured by all this. The volubility of his tongue is beyond the limitation of rules; and therefore it is, that folly breaks out on one fide, and mischief often