:
:
EMBLEMS.
2o6
My well-spun
thread, that my imprisoned soul May be deliver'd from this dull dark hole O shall I, shall I never Of dungeon flesh ?
Be ransom'd, but remain a slave for ever r It is the lot of man but once to die, But ere that death, how many deaths have I ? What human madness makes the world afraid To entertain Heaven's joys, because conveyM
By the hand of death ? will nakedness refuse Rich change of robes, because the man's not spruce That brought them ? or will poverty send back Full bags of gold, because the bringer 's black Life is a bubble, blown with whining breaths,
with a torment of a thousand deaths
Fill'd
?
;
Which being prick'd by death (while death deprives One life) presents the soul a thousand lives O frantic mortal, how hath earth bewitch'd :
Thy
bedlam
Upon
her
soul,
which hath so fondly pitch'd
false delights
!
delights that cease
Before enjoyment finds a time to please Her fickle joys breed doubtful fears ; her fears her griefs weep fearful tears Bring hopeful griefs Tears coin deceitful hopes hopes careful doubt, And surly passion justles passion out To-day we pamper with a full repast :
;
:
;
Of lavish
mirth, at night
we weep
as fast
To-night we swim in wealth, and lend to-morrow, sink in want, and find no friend to borrow. ;
We
In what a climate doth my soul reside ? pale-fac'd murder, the first-born of pride, Sets up her kingdom in the very smiles. And plighted faiths of men like crocodiles And land, where each embroider'd sattin word where Mars his lawless sword, Is lined with fraud where that hand Exiles Astrae's balance
Where
:
;
;
Now
slays his brother, that
new-sow'd
his land
;