Go, fool, and for the loss of time repent, Which thus, in hope of heritage was spent. L'ENVOY OF THE POET. He who exists, desiring other's death, Lives but on air, and wagers breath 'gainst breath. THE POET'S CHORUS TO FOOLS. Come, trim the boat, row on each Rara Avis, SECTION LVIII. OF TRADING FOOLS. Fortuna multis dat nimium, nulli satis. To gold this fool pays such devotion, Or, if rocks, shoals, or quicksands meeting, * When the mercantile fool acts. thus, he may well exclaim, Fortunæ cætera mando: or verify the Italian proverb, that says, A torto si lamenta del mare, chi due volte ei vuol tornare. When the evil arrives, the fool then recollects the words of Syrus too late, who saith, Fortuna vitrea est, tum cum splendet, frangitur. A a But, if dame fortune, less capricious, For what's possess'd, thou prov'st ungracious; Though bless'd with ease and competence. Thus ever thankless fools, unsteady, * This stanza of the poet brings to mind the words of Shakspeare, who, speaking of fortune, thus expresses himself: Will fortune never come with both hands full; She either gives a stomach, and no food; No country can afford more instances of maniac, speculative fools, than England, where they not only risk their L'ENVOY OF THE POET. Take special care, my friend, of what is thine; For, this plain truth I'd have thee understand; The storm will follow, tho' the sun doth shine: Two birds in bush are not worth one in hand. THE POET'S CHORUS TO FOOLS. Come, trim the boat, row on each Rara Avis, fortunes in ventures abroad, but will equally grasp at any mad scheme at home. Some delve for mines in the bowels of the earth, and procure naught but dust for their cost and pains; whilst others must build houses for wise men to purchase at half price, when the speculator has become a bankrupt. In short, there is nothing too absurd for the folly of discontented minds, which prompts them to exchange af fluence for poverty, ease and liberty for the confines of a gaol. SECTION LIX. OF FOOLS THAT WILL NOT SPEAK THE TRUTH, FOR FEAR OF PUNISHMENT. Quem pænitet peccasse, pène est innocens. THE wily fool, by fraud and lies, *The lines of Shakspeare, on falsehood, are beautifully expressive, where he says, Two beggars told me I could not miss my way. Will poor folks lie, A punishment, or trial? Yes: no wonder, When rich ones scarce tell true. To lapse in fullness Is worse in kings than beggars. |