Whose honour late was mann'd with princely pow'r,
His glory now lies bury'd in the dust;
O who would trust this world, or prize what's in it,
That gives and takes, and chops and

6.

changes ev'ry [minute!

Nor length of days, nor solid strength of brain,
Can find a place wherein to rest secure :
The world is various, and the earth is vain,
There's nothing certain here, there's nothing sure:
We trudge, we travel, but from pain to pain,
And what's our only grief's our only cure:

The world's a torment; he that would endeavour
To find the way to rest, must seek the way to leave

S. GREG. in Hom.

[he.

Behold, the world is withered in itself, yet flourisheth in our hearts; every where death, every where grief, every where desolation: on every side, we are smitten; on every side, filled with bitterness; and yet, with the blind mind of carnal desire, we love her bitterness: it flieth, and we follow it; it falleth, yet we stick to it: and le cause we cannot enjoy it falling, we fall with it, and enjoy it fallen.

EPIG. 9..

If Fortune fail, or envious time but spurn,

The world turns round, and with the world we turn: When Fortune sees, and Lynx-ey'd Time is blind, I'll trust thy joys, O world; till then, the wind.

JOHN

X.

JOHN viii. 44.

Ye are of your father the devil, and the lusts of your father ye will do.

H

[black: ERE'S your right ground: wag gently o'er this 'Tis a short cast; y'are quickly at the jack. Rub, rub an inch or two; two crowns to one

On this bowl's side; blow, wind; 'tis fairly thrown: The next bowl's worse that comes; come bowl away; Mammon, you know the ground; untutor'd, play: Your last was gone; a yard of strength, well spar'd, Had touch'd the block; your hand is still too hard, Brave pastime, readers; to consume that day,

Which, without pastime, flies too swift away!
See how they labour; as if day and night

Were both too short to serve their loose delight:
See how their curved bodies wreath, and screw
Such antic shapes as Proteus never knew:
One raps an oath, another deals a curse;

He never better bowl'd; this never worse:
One rubs his itchless elbow, shrugs and laughs:
The other bends his beetle brows, and chafes:
Sometimes they whoop, sometimes their Stygian cries
Send their black Santo's to the blushing skies:
Thus mingling humours in a mad confusion,
They make bad premises, and worse conclusion:
But where's a palm that Fortune's hand allows
To bless the victor's honourable brows?
Come, reader, come, I'll light thine
eye the way
To view the prize, the while the gamesters play:
Close by the jack, behold, jill Fortune stands
To wave the game; see in her partial hands.
The glorious garland's held in open show,

To chear the lads, and crown the conqu'ror's brow.

C. 4.

The

The world's the jack; the gamesters that contend,
Are Cupid, Mammon that judicious fiend,
That gives the ground, is Satan: and the bowls

Are sinful thoughts; the prize, a crown for fools. Who breathes that bowls not? What bold tongue can Without a blush, he has not bowl'd to day?

It is the trade of man, and ev'ry sinner

Has play'd his rubbers: every soul's a winner.
The vulgar proverb's crost, he hardly can

Be a good bowler and an honest man.
Good God! turn thou my Brazil thoughts anew;
New-sole my bowls, and make their bias true.
I'll cease the game, till fairer ground be given;
Nor wish to win, until the mark be heav'n.

S. BERNARD. Lib. de Consid.

[say

O you sons of Adam, you covetous generations, what have ye to do with earthly riches, which are neither true nor yours? Gold and silver are real earth, red and white which the only error of man makes, or rather reputes, precious in short, if they be yours, carry them with you.

S. HIERON. in Ep.

O lust, thou infernal fire, whose fuel is gluttony; whose flame is pride; whose sparkles are wanton words, whose smoke is infamy; whose ashes are uncleanness; whose end is hell.

EPIG. 10.

Mammon, well follow'd: Cupid; bravely led;
Both touchers; equal fortune makes a dead;
No reed can measure where the conquest lies;
Take my advice; compound, and share the prize.

EPHES

XI.

EPHES. ii. 2.

Ye walked according to the course of this world, according to the prince of the air.

O

1.

Whither will this mad brain world, at last,

Be driv'n? Where will her restless wheels arrive? Why hurries on her ill match'd pair so fast? O whither means her furious groom to drive? What, will her rambling fits be never past? For ever ranging? Never once retrieve?

Will earth's perpetual progress ne'er expire? Her team continuing in their fresh career : And yet they never rest, and yet they never tire.

2.

Sol's hot-mouth'd steeds, whose nostrils vomit flame,
And brasen lungs belch forth quotidian fire;
Their twelve hours task perform'd, grow stiff and lame,
And their immortal spirits faint and tire:
At th'azure mountain's foot their labours claim
The privilege of rest, where they retire

To quench their burning fetlocks, and go steep
Their flaming nostrils in the western deep,

And 'fresh their tir'd souls with strength restoring sleep.

3.

But these prodigious hackneys, basely got

'Twixt men and devils, made for race or flight, Can drag the idle world, expecting not

The bed of rest, but travel with delight;

Who, never weighing way nor weather, trot

Thro' dust and dirt, and droil both night and day; Thus droil these fiends incarnate, whose free pains Are fed with dropsies and veneral blains ;

No need to use the whip; but strength to rule the reins.

Poor

4.

Poor captive world! how has thy lightness giv'n.
A just occasion to thy foes' illusion !
O, how art thou betray'd; thus fairly driv'n,
In seeming triumph, to thy own confusion!
How is the empty universe bereav'n

Of all true joys, by one false joy's delusion!
So I have seen an unblown virgin fed

With sugar'd word so full, that she is led
A fair attended bride to a false bankrupt's bed..

5.

Pull, gracious Lord! Let not thine arm forsake

The world impounded in her own devices : Think of that pleasure that thou once did'st take Amongst the lilies and sweet beds of spices. Hale strongly, thou whose hand has pow'r to slack The swift-foot fury of ten thousand vices : Let not that dust-devouring dragon boast, His craft has won what Judah's Lion lost? Remember what is crav'd; recount the price it cost. ISIDOR, Lib. i. de Summo Bono.

By how much the nearer Satan perceiveth the world to an end, by so much the more fiercely he troubleth it with persecution; that, knowing himself to be damned, he may get company in his damnation.

CYPRIAN. in Ep.

Broad and spacious is the road to infernal life; there are inticements and death-bringing pleasures. There the devil flattereth, that he may deceive; smileth, that he may endamage: allureth, that he may destroy.

EPIG. 11.

Nay, soft and fair good world; post not too fast ;
Thy journey's end requires not half this haste.
Unless that arm thou so disdain'st, reprives * thee,
Alas, thou needs must go; the devil drives thee.

Reprives, i. e. curbs, restrains; from the French, reprimer.

ISAIAH