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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, Crowds flock to man my Stultifera Navis.

SECTION LVIII.

OF TRADING FOOLS.

Fortuna multis dat nimium, nulli satis.

To gold this fool pays such devotion,

That, to ensure the precious store, He, on the wide, inconstant ocean,

Ventures his certain wealth for more. *
Now billows raging, winds loud beating,

Soon the fragile bark destroy:
Or, if rocks, shoals, or quicksands meeting,

Farewel the golden dreams of joy.f

* When the mercantile fool acts, thus, he may well ex. claim, 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.

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But, if dame fortune, less capricious,

Wafts to thee the precious mine; Awake, thou fear'st-while dreams suspicious,

Ev'ry succeeding night are thine.*

For what's possess’d, thou prov’st ungracious;

And thus defy'st all common sense; Relying on pursuit fallacious,

Though bless’d with ease and competence.

Thus ever thankless fools, unsteady,

Spite of their reason, act amiss: And, to exchange for ills, are ready,

The body's ease and mental bliss.f

* 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;
But write her fair words still in foulest letters?
She either gives a stomach, and no food;
Such are the poor in health: or else, a feast,
And takes away the stomach: such the rich,
That have abundance, and enjoy it not.

† 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.

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

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... inne

SECTION LIX.

OF FOOLS THAT WILL NOT SPEAK THE TRUTH, FOR

FEAR OF PUNISHMENT.

Quem pænitet peccasse, pene est innocens.

THE wily fool, by fraud and lies,
Will strive to veil from others' eyes,
A fault that's of inferior name,
Compar'd with that abhorred shame,
Which doubly taints him with disgrace,
While striving smaller faults t'efface.*...

* 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, That have afflictions on them; knowing 'tis A punishment, or trial? Yes: no wonder, When rich ones scarce tell true. To lapse in fullness Is sorer than to lie for need; and falsehood Is worse in kings than beggars.

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