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SECTION XLVII.

OF FOOLS WHO DAILY PROLONG THEIR OWN

AMENDMENT.

To-morrow and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death.

I FEEL conviction of my sin,
And will anew my course begin, *
Full oft the voice of folly cries out;
But when the fool next morning hies out,

* The advice of Hamlet to his mother, when he urges her to refrain from any further converse with his uncle, is admirably calculated to impress the mind with the necessity there is for beginning at once a reformation; and that when the first step is taken, every subsequent one becomes less arduous. Nor are the words of the Prodigal Son, in the inimitable parable of our Saviour, less requisite to these fools, when he says, “ I will arise and go unto my. Father, and will say unto him-Father, I have sinned againstHeaven, and against thee, and am no more worthy to be called thy Son."

The sage resolve 's forgot, ʼmid senseless crowds,
Nor heeded more than last year's passing clouds.*

0! now I'll live to read and think,
Nor longer game, and wench and drink;
A painted harlot's Satan's daughter, -

And wine inflames, so I'll take water;
Forego all gaming—yet, produce the dice,
The wine and wench-all's then forgot, but vice.

No more my dress shall cause the stare,
My brain shall henceforth be my care ; :
No more with whip I'll bloods beat hollow,

My race I'll now run 'gainst Apollo.
But dress and Bond Street, Tandem,t brazen

wh-r-s,
Bear sway and kick the muses out of doors.

* This reminds me of the story of Balaam, who would not believe, though his ass spoke! and indeed, to the multitude of fools who yield to this propensity, we may say with Horace,

- Vivendi recte qui prorogat horam, Rusticus expectat dum defluat amnis. - † A vehicle which neither comes under the head of curri. cle or buggy, being drawn by two horses at length, and not

Cries age 'tis certain, by the bye,
That all men at some time must die;
How simple not to have reflected!

No more this point shall be neglected ; *
To-morrow I'll turn o'er a better leaf,
The morrow comes, and pleasure proves the

thief.t

abreast, in order to display the dexterity of gentleman coachmen. This appellation, which originated at one of the Universities, is perfectly consonant with the wit of the present race of what are termed students, whether with trencher caps, or fellow commoners' gowns.

* In the prayers of the famous Dr. Johnson is recorded, a curious instance of this foolery; for even that learned man, therein confesses, that he nightly returned to rest, with the determination of amending his course of life, and rising early in the morning, but, when the morrow came, he as invariably yielded to his old propensities, and continued in bed till mid-day. It would have been well for our Lexicographer, had he called to mind the following Italian proverb, which so well expresses the fruits derived from labour.

Travaglio vinea la palma, e monda la rugine dell'alma.

† The folly considered by the poet in this section, which may be well termed obduracy in sinning, is far more excusable in youth than in old age, for when we view deadened

U 2

L'ENVOY OF THE POET.
Thus ev'ry fool to pleasure yields control,

And makes himself the veriest abject slave;
For though assur'd such acts disease his soul,

Yet he delays the cure, till in the grave. .

· THE POET'S CHORUS TO FOOLS. Come, trim the boat, row on each Rara Avis, Crowds flock to man my Stultifera Navis.

passions, and the gray hairs of experience, still obedient to foolery, and lost to conscience and approaching death, there is certainly no excuse to palliate the dereliction from reason, which frequently involves the fool in dangers from which, not even the grave itself can relieve him, having tainted the soul as well as the body with vice.

· Assidua occupatione impedisce la tentatione.

SECTION XLVIII.

OF NOBLE FOOLS.

Came there a certain Lord, neat, trimly dress'd;
Fresh as a bridegroom; and his chin, new reap'd,
Show'd like a stubble land at harvest home:
He was perfumed like a milliner;
And, 'twixt his finger and his thumb, he held
A pouncet box, which ever and anon
He gave his nose –

My Lord and Lord Duke,

I needs must rebuke,
In defiance of star and of garter;

For ye, like the rest,

It must be confess'd, For the fool's cap your common sense barter.

From ye, my grave peers,
With Midas's ears,

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