The Dev'll was Sick, the Dev'll a Monk would be; The Dev'll was Well, the Dev'll a Monk was He. This Fable applies it self to Those that Promise more in their Adversity then they either Intend, or are Able to make good in their Prosperity; but they must not think to bring themselves off at last with a Concert; for in the Sight of God, an Equivocating Juggling Sham, is as much as a Gross, Downright Lye. 'Tis the Prattice of the World for People in Distress to serve God and Man, in Several Respects, both Alike; That is to say, when they lye under any Heavy Affliction, or Propose to themselves any Considerable Advantage, and find they have Need of Anothers Help; how do they Beg, Vow, Promise, Sollicite, Swear, Sign and Seal and yet Conscious to Themselves all this while, that they neither Intend nor are able to make One Article Good? Wickedness comes on by Degrees, as well as Virtue; and Sudden Leaps from One Extreme to Another, are Unnatural Motions in the Course of our Lives and Humours. Here's first a Rash, and a Knavish Promise; for the Promiser knew he was notable to make it Good. When he has broken the Ice, he Advances, from Cozening of God, to making Sport with him, and pays him with Past for Flesh: But Vengeance Overtook him in the Conclusion, and gave him to Understand, that God will not be Mocked. The Moral of This Sick Man is the Case of Every Soul of us in the Making, and the Breaking of our Vows.