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         Benlowes, Edward, 1603?-1676.
      
       
         
           1657
        
      
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             The summary of vvisedome by Edward Benlowes, Esq.
             Benlowes, Edward, 1603?-1676.
          
           [19] p.
           
             Printed for Humphry Mosely ...,
             London :
             1657.
          
           
             In verse.
             English and Latin text on opposite pages.
             Reproduction of original in Huntington Library.
          
        
      
    
     
       
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         eng
      
       
         
           Wisdom.
        
      
    
     
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           THE
           SUMMARY
           OF
           VVISEDOME
           ,
        
         
           By
           
             Edward
             Benlowes
          
           
             Esq
          
        
         
           Love
           not
           the
           World
           ,
           neither
           the
           things
           that
           are
           in
           the
           World
           ;
           if
           any
           Man
           love
           the
           World
           ,
           the
           love
           of
           the
           FATHER
           is
           not
           in
           him
           :
           For
           all
           that
           is
           in
           the
           World
           ,
           the
           Lust
           of
           the
           Eyes
           ,
           the
           Lust
           of
           the
           Flesh
           ,
           and
           the
           Pride
           of
           Life
           ,
           is
           not
           of
           the
           FATHER
           ,
           but
           is
           of
           the
           World
           ;
           and
           the
           World
           passeth
           away
           ,
           and
           the
           Lust
           thereof
           .
           But
           He
           that
           doth
           the
           Will
           of
           God
           abideth
           for
           ever
           .
        
         
           1
           Joh.
           2.
           15
           ,
           16
           ,
           17.
           
        
         
           
             IN
             DOMINO
             CONFIDO
          
           printer's or publisher's device
        
         
           LONDON
           ,
        
         
           Printed
           for
           
             Humphry
             Mosely
          
           ,
           and
           are
           to
           be
           sold
           at
           the
           Princes
           Arms
           in
           St.
           Pauls
           Church-yard
           ,
           1657.
           
        
      
    
     
       
         
         
           THE
           SUMMARY
           OF
           VVISEDOME
           ,
        
         
           By
           the
           Author
           of
           THEOPHILA
           .
        
         
           
             Love
             not
             the
             World
             ,
             neither
             the
             Things
             that
             are
             in
             the
             World
             ;
             if
             any
             man
             love
             the
             World
             ,
             the
             Love
             of
             the
             FATHER
             is
             not
             in
             him
             ,
             &c.
             
          
           
             1
             Joh.
             2.
             15
             ,
             16
             ,
             17.
             
          
        
         
           
             1
          
           
             WOrldlings
             we
             court
             not
             ,
             envy
             not
             ,
             nor
             fear
             ;
          
           
             May
             Friends
             to
             Vertue
             lend
             their
             Ear
             :
          
           
             While
             Sinners
             split
             on
             shelves
             ,
             Saints
             to
          
           
             Heav'ns
             Harbour
             steer
             .
          
        
         
           
             2
          
           
             Earthlings
             !
             What
             's
             Heap
             of
             Wealth
             ?
          
           
             What
             's
             Honours
             Height
             ?
          
           
             What
             's
             Pleasures
             May
             ?
             can
             toyes
             so
             slight
          
           
             Blesse
             Heav'n-descended
             Soules
             with
             Lifes
             eternall
             Light
             ?
          
        
         
           
             3
          
           
             Riches
             from
             most
             men
             ,
             swift
             as
             Eagles
             ,
             fly
             ;
          
           
             Honours
             on
             popular
             breath
             rely
             ;
          
           
             Pleasure
             's
             a
             flash
             ;
             —
             And
             All
             combind
             ,
             but
             Vanity
             .
          
        
         
           
             4
          
           
             Why
             dot'st
             thou
             ,
             WORLD
             ,
             on
             these
             ?
             we
             will
             not
             stay
             :
          
           
             Iuggler
             ,
             We
             know
             thy
             tempting
             Way
             ;
          
           
             Which
             is
             ,
             by
             Charms
             to
             mock
             our
             Sense
             ,
             and
             then
             betray
             .
          
        
         
           
             5
          
           
             Art
             toyles
             to
             serve
             thee
             ;
             Sables
             yield
             their
             Skinnes
             ;
          
           
             The
             Silk-Worm
             for
             thy
             Ward-robe
             spinnes
             ;
          
           
             The
             Rock
             with
             Jemmes
             ,
             the
             Sea
             with
             Pearles
             ,
             embosse
             thy
             Sinnes
             ▪
          
        
         
           
             6
          
           
             To
             bribe
             thy
             Palate
             ,
             Lust
             draynes
             Earth
             ,
             Air
             ,
             Seas
             ;
          
           
             Whence
             Finny
             ,
             Wing'd
             ,
             hoof'd
             Droves
             must
             please
          
           
             The
             Glutton
             ,
             made
             thereby
             a
             Spittle
             of
             each
             Disease
             .
          
        
         
           
           
             7
          
           
             False
             World
             ,
             Asps
             poyson
             equals
             not
             thy
             Gall
             ,
          
           
             Imbittering
             Soules
             to
             Hell.
             Thus
             all
          
           
             Thy
             Darlings
             thou
             delud'st
             with
             thy
             enchanting
             Call.
             
          
        
         
           
             8
          
           
             I
             wonder
             not
             unbridled
             fools
             run
             on
             ;
          
           
             Since
             all
             their
             Heav'n's
             on
             earth
             alone
             ;
          
           
             Which
             ,
             though
             thou
             seem'st
             to
             give
             ,
             as
             soon
             as
             giv'n
             ,
             't
             is
             gone
             .
          
        
         
           
             9
          
           
             Kisse
             ,
             and
             betray
             ,
             then
             
             Nero's
             Rage
             out-dare
             ;
          
           
             He
             ,
             whom
             thou
             hugg'st
             ,
             should
             most
             beware
             :
          
           
             I
             shall
             un-mask
             thy
             Guiles
             ,
             and
             thy
             fond
             Gulls
             un-snare
             .
          
        
         
           
             10
          
           
             Thy
             Smile
             is
             but
             a
             trap
             ,
             thy
             frown
             a
             bubble
             ,
          
           
             Thy
             Praise
             a
             squib
             ,
             thy
             beauty
             stubble
             ;
          
           
             Who
             know
             thee
             best
             ,
             have
             found
             a
             Theater
             of
             Trouble
             :
          
        
         
           
             11
          
           
             Where
             Men
             and
             Devils
             meet
             ;
             and
             Sense
             ,
             compact
          
           
             With
             Fraud
             ,
             gild
             every
             vicious
             fact
             :
          
           
             Where
             we
             must
             Evil
             hear
             ,
             or
             suffer
             it
             ,
             or
             act
             .
          
        
         
           
             12
          
           
             Thy
             Friends
             are
             thieves
             of
             Time
             ;
             The
             chat
             they
             vent
          
           
             (
             Light
             Ayres
             please
             toyish
             eares
             ▪
             )
             is
             spent
          
           
             On
             trash
             ,
             which
             Mindes
             seduce
             with
             cheating
             blandishment
             .
          
        
         
           
             13
          
           
             Thy
             gifted
             Sythemen
             have
             Religion
             mown
             ,
          
           
             Which
             ,
             in
             their
             
             Meeting-barnes
             ,
             is
             grown
          
           
             From
             Best
             to
             All
             (
             like
             Corinths
             Schism
             )
             from
             All
             ,
             to
             none
             .
          
        
         
           
             14
          
           
             Thy
             Shop
             vents
             brayded
             Ware
             of
             apish
             fashion
             ;
          
           
             Thy
             Gauds
             (
             
               Wealth
               ,
               Sport
               ,
               Pride
            
             )
             breed
             Vexation
             ;
          
           
             Like
             Hoboyes
             ,
             on
             Earths
             Stage
             ,
             oft
             ushering
             in
             —
             Damnation
             .
          
        
         
           
             15
          
           
             Ah
             ,
             while
             ,
             like
             Larks
             ,
             fools
             with
             vain
             feathers
             play
             ,
          
           
             Pleas'd
             with
             Sinnes
             glasse
             ,
             are
             snatcht
             away
             ,
          
           
             In
             midst
             of
             their
             Excesse
             ,
             to
             Hells
             tormenting
             Bay
             !
          
        
         
           
             16
          
           
             World
             ,
             thou
             soul-wracking
             Ocean
             !
             Flatteries
             blow
          
           
             Thee
             up
             ,
             thou
             blue
             with
             Spite
             dost
             grow
             ,
          
           
             Brinish
             with
             Lust
             ,
             like
             the
             Red-sea
             ,
             with
             Bloud
             dost
             flow
             .
          
        
         
           
             17
          
           
             And
             ,
             like
             the
             Basilisks
             prodigious
             eyes
             ,
          
           
             Thy
             first
             sight
             kills
             ,
             but
             thy self
             dyes
          
           
             First
             seen
             :
             Quick-sighted
             Faith
             thy
             Darts
             prevents
             ,
             and
             spies
             .
          
        
         
           
             18
          
           
             Had'st
             been
             lesse
             cruel
             ,
             thou
             had'st
             been
             lesse
             kind
             ;
          
           
             Thy
             Gall
             ,
             prov'd
             Medicine
             ,
             heales
             my
             Mind
             :
          
           
             Thus
             Hell
             may
             help
             to
             Heav'n
             ,
             the
             Fiend
             a
             Soul
             befriend
             .
          
        
         
           
             19
          
           
             The
             age-bow'd
             Earth
             groans
             under
             Sinners
             weight
             !
          
           
             Iustice
             ,
             opprest
             ,
             to
             Heav'n
             takes
             flight
             ,
          
           
             Vengeance
             her
             place
             supplies
             ,
             which
             with
             keen
             Edge
             will
             smite
             .
          
        
         
           
             20
          
           
             False
             World
             !
             is
             Hell
             the
             Legacy
             to
             thy
             Friend
             ?
          
           
             Crawl
             with
             thy
             trifles
             to
             the
             Fiend
             :
          
           
             We
             scorn
             thy
             Pack
             .
             —
             thIs
             year
             May
             bVrnIng
             CLose
             thy
             enD
             ▪
          
        
         
           
           
             For
             All
             that
             is
             in
             the
             World
             ,
             
               The
               Lust
               of
               the
               Eyes
            
             ,
             is
             not
             of
             the
             FATHER
             ,
             but
             is
             of
             the
             World
             ,
             &c.
             
          
           
             
               21.
               
            
             
               MIdas
               ,
               to
               th'
               Barre
               ;
               thou
               void
               of
               Grace
               ,
               yet
               stor'd
            
             
               With
               Gold
               ,
               thy
               minted
               God
               ,
               a
               dor'd
               :
            
             
               Thou
               ,
               and
               thine
               Idol
               ,
               perish
               in
               thy
               wretched
               Hord.
               
            
          
           
             
               22
            
             
               Thy
               heart
               is
               lockt
               up
               in
               thy
               shrined
               Chinck
               :
            
             
               O
               ,
               heavy
               Gold
               ,
               bred
               near
               Hells
               brink
               !
            
             
               Misgotten
               Elf
               ,
               thou
               Heav'n-designed
               Soules
               dost
               sink
               !
            
          
           
             
               23
            
             
               
                 Whos
                 's
                 Gain
                 is
                 Godlinesse
              
               ,
               —
               The
               Scripture
               he
            
             
               Perverts
               :
               —
               Dayes
               him
               with
               Interest
               fee
               ,
            
             
               Who
               Incest
               still
               commits
               with
               his
               Coynes
               Progeny
               .
            
          
           
             
               24
            
             
               Thou
               hast
               too
               much
               ,
               yet
               still
               thou
               whin'st
               for
               more
               ;
            
             
               Thou
               ,
               wishing
               ,
               want'st
               ;
               art
               ,
               wanting
               ,
               poor
               :
            
             
               Thou
               would'st
               ev'n
               plunder
               Hell
               for
               Cash
               to
               cramme
               thy
               Store
               .
            
          
           
             
               25
            
             
               While
               gripes
               of
               Famine
               mutiny
               within
               ,
            
             
               And
               tan
               ,
               like
               hides
               ,
               the
               shrivel'd
               skin
            
             
               Of
               those
               thou
               hast
               decoy'd
               into
               thy
               tangling
               Ginne
               .
            
          
           
             
               26
            
             
               Whos
               's
               skin
               ,
               sear
               as
               the
               bark
               of
               saplesse
               wood
               ,
            
             
               Clings
               to
               their
               bones
               ,
               for
               want
               of
               food
               ;
            
             
               Friendlesse
               ,
               as
               are
               Sea-monsters
               thrown
               ashore
               by
               th'
               Flood
               .
            
          
           
             
               27
            
             
               Though
               Fasts
               be
               all
               their
               Physick
               ,
               their
               Corps
               all
            
             
               Their
               Earth
               ,
               who
               for
               thy
               Pity
               call
               ,
            
             
               Yet
               art
               thou
               harder
               to
               them
               than
               their
               bed
               ,
               the
               stall
               .
            
          
           
             
               28
            
             
               Penurious
               Churl
               ,
               When
               shall
               I
               
                 (
                 sayes
                 thine
                 Heir
              
               )
            
             
               Ransack
               thy
               Chests
               ?
               so
               ease
               thy
               Care
               :
            
             
               Purchase
               ,
               instead
               of
               Ground
               ,
               a
               Grave
               !
               —
               Dye
               ,
               Wretch
               ,
               to
               spare
               !
            
          
           
             
               29
            
             
               Hath
               treach'rous
               Coin
               swell'd
               by
               thy
               Curse
               ?
               —
               Live
               still
            
             
               Lay-Elder
               :
               Soon
               thy
               Crimes
               fulfill
               :
            
             
               
                 The
                 heaviest
                 Curse
                 on
                 this
                 side
                 Hell
                 's
                 to
                 thrive
                 in
                 Ill.
                 
              
            
          
           
             
               30
            
             
               How
               cursed
               Love
               of
               Money
               doth
               bewitch
            
             
               The
               leprous
               Mind
               with
               pleasing
               Itch
               !
            
             
               This
               Slave
               to
               his
               own
               Servant
               ,
               ne're
               was
               poor
               ,
               till
               rich
               !
            
          
           
             
               31
            
             
               Graves
               may
               be
               sooner
               cloy'd
               ,
               than
               craving
               eyes
               :
            
             
               Bribes
               blanch
               Gehazi
               till
               he
               dies
               .
            
             
               
                 Thou
                 ,
                 Fool
                 ,
                 Death
                 shall
                 this
                 night
                 thy
                 Dunghill
                 Soul
                 surprize
                 .
              
            
          
           
             
               32
            
             
               Nor
               would
               this
               .
               City-Wolf
               lead
               Men
               to
               Snares
               ,
            
             
               Nor
               vex
               his
               Mind
               with
               carking
               Cares
               ,
            
             
               View'd
               he
               himself
               i'
               th'
               Mirrour
               which
               Despair
               prepares
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               33
            
             
               So
               wastefull
               ,
               Usurer
               ,
               as
               thy self
               ,
               there
               's
               none
               ;
            
             
               Who
               part'st
               with
               three
               true
               Jemmes
               ,
               for
               one
            
             
               Brittle
               as
               glasse
               ;
               —
               thy
               Fame
               ,
               Rest
               ,
               Soul
               for
               ever
               gone
               !
            
          
           
             
               34
            
             
               Who
               Nettles
               sow
               ,
               shall
               Prickles
               reap
               ;
               the
               train
            
             
               To
               Hell
               is
               idolized
               Gain
               :
            
             
               Unlesse
               thou
               Fiends
               can'st
               bribe
               ,
               thou
               go'st
               to
               endlesse
               Pain
               !
            
          
           
             
               35
            
             
               His
               hide-bound-Conscience
               opens
               now
               .
               —
               
                 I
                 've
                 run
              
            
             
               
                 On
                 rocks
              
               (
               he
               howles
               )
               
                 too
                 late
                 to
                 shun
              
               !
            
             
               
                 Grace
                 left
                 ,
                 Wrath
                 seiz'd
                 me
                 !
                 Gold
                 ,
                 my
                 God
                 ,
                 hath
                 me
                 undone
                 !
              
            
          
           
             
               36
            
             
               Often
               to
               Hell
               in
               Dreames
               I
               headlong
               fall
               !
            
             
               From
               Devils
               then
               I
               seem
               to
               crawl
               ,
            
             
               While
               Furies
               round
               about
               with
               whips
               my
               Soul
               appall
               !
            
          
           
             
               37
            
             
               Atheism
               our
               Root
               ,
               for
               Boughs
               were
               Factions
               store
               ,
            
             
               Hypocrisie
               our
               Leaves
               gilt
               o're
               ,
            
             
               Wrath
               ,
               Treachery
               ,
               and
               Extortion
               ,
               were
               the
               Fruit
               we
               bore
               !
            
          
           
             
               38
            
             
               Like
               profane
               Esau
               have
               we
               sold
               our
               blisse
               ,
            
             
               For
               shine
               of
               Pelf
               ,
               that
               nothing
               is
               !
            
             
               This
               desperates
               our
               Rage
               ,
               we
               still
               blaspheme
               at
               This
               !
            
          
           
             
               39
            
             
               Thus
               cursed
               Gripers
               restlesse
               Tortures
               feel
               ,
            
             
               Whose
               hearts
               seem'd
               rocks
               ,
               whose
               bowels
               steel
               .
            
             
               
                 I
                 burn
              
               ,
               (
               cryes
               Dives
               )
               
                 for
                 one
                 drop
                 ,
                 deny'd
                 ,
                 I
                 kneel
                 !
              
            
          
           
             
               40
            
             
               Fire
               each
               where
               
                 broyles
              
               me
               ,
               Fire
               as
               black
               as
               Night
               !
            
             
               Goblins
               mine
               Eyes
               ,
               Eares
               Shrieks
               affright
               !
            
             
               
                 Sins
                 Debt
                 still
                 paying
                 ;
                 nere
                 discharg'd
                 ,
                 is
                 Infinite
                 !
              
            
          
        
         
           
             For
             all
             that
             is
             in
             the
             World
             ,
             
               The
               Lust
               of
               the
               Flesh
            
             ,
             is
             not
             of
             the
             FATHER
             ,
             but
             is
             of
             World
             ,
             &c.
             
          
           
             
               41
            
             
               STrow
               Flowers
               for
               Spend-thrift
               ;
               Antemasks
               he
               might
            
             
               Act
               before
               Apes
               ,
               Spectators
               right
               :
            
             
               Whose
               Dops
               ,
               Shrugs
               ,
               Puppet-playes
               ,
               shew
               best
               by
               Candle-light
               .
            
          
           
             
               42
            
             
               Hot
               showes
               the
               Season
               by
               his
               dusty
               head
               ;
            
             
               With
               fancy'd
               ribbands
               round
               bespread
               ;
            
             
               Modish
               ,
               and
               maddish
               ,
               all
               untrust
               ,
               as
               going
               to
               bed
               .
            
          
           
             
               43
            
             
               Ho!
               First
               brisk
               Wine
               ,
               next
               let
               a
               sparkling
               Dame
            
             
               Fire
               our
               high
               Bloud
               ,
               then
               quench
               our
               Flame
               !
            
             
               Blest
               is
               the
               Son
               ,
               whose
               Father
               's
               gone
               i'
               th'
               Devils
               Name
               .
            
          
           
             
               44
            
             
               Each
               pottle
               breeds
               a
               Ruby
               ,
               Drawer
               ,
               score
               'um
               :
            
             
               Cheeks
               dy'd
               in
               Claret
               ,
               seem
               o'
               th'
               Quorum
               ,
            
             
               When
               our
               Nose-Carbuncles
               ,
               like
               Link-boyes
               ,
               blaze
               before
               '
               um
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               45
            
             
               Compleat
               thy
               funetall-Pyle
               ;
               shouldst
               thou
               mark
               well
            
             
               How
               down
               the
               Drunkards
               throat
               to
               Hell
            
             
               Death
               smoothly
               glides
               ;
               to
               swim
               so
               sadly
               would
               thee
               quell
               !
            
          
           
             
               46
            
             
               Spawns
               of
               Excesse
               ,
               Dropsies
               and
               Surfets
               are
               ;
            
             
               From
               Tenants
               Sweat's
               thy
               Bill
               of
               Fare
               :
            
             
               Each
               Glutton
               digs
               with
               's
               teeth
               his
               Grave
               ,
               whose
               Maw's
               his
               Care.
               
            
          
           
             
               47
            
             
               
                 He
                 's
                 sick
                 ,
                 and
                 staggers
                 .
                 Doctor
                 ,
                 his
                 Case
                 state
                 us
              
               ;
            
             
               His
               Cachexie
               results
               from
               Flatus
            
             
               Hypochondrunkicus
               ,
               ex
               Crapula
               Creatus
               .
            
          
           
             
               48
            
             
               Scarce
               Well
               ,
               he
               swills
               what
               should
               the
               Needy
               store
               ;
            
             
               And
               grindes
               between
               his
               teeth
               the
               Poor
               ,
            
             
               Who
               beg
               dry
               crumnies
               ,
               which
               they
               with
               Tears
               would
               moisten
               o're
               .
            
          
           
             
               49
            
             
               He
               a
               sharp
               Reck'ning
               shall
               ,
               with
               Dives
               ,
               pay
               ;
            
             
               Whose
               Feasts
               did
               hasten
               '
               his
               Audit-day
               ;
            
             
               Death
               brought
               the
               Voider
               ,
               and
               the
               Devil
               took
               away
               !
            
          
           
             
               50
            
             
               Enter
               his
               Courtesan
               ,
               who
               fannes
               his
               Fire
               ;
            
             
               Her
               pratling
               Eyes
               teach
               loose
               Desire
               :
            
             
               Fondlings
               to
               catch
               this
               art-fair
               Fly
               ,
               like
               Trouts
               ,
               aspire
               .
            
          
           
             
               51
            
             
               With
               Paint
               ,
               false
               hair
               ,
               and
               naked
               Breasts
               She
               jetts
               ,
            
             
               And
               Patches
               ,
               (
               Lusts
               new
               Lime-twigs
               )
               sets
               ;
            
             
               Like
               Tickets
               on
               the
               Door
               ,
               Her self
               (
               for
               Gold
               )
               She
               lets
               .
            
          
           
             
               52
            
             
               Her
               
               Basilisk-like
               Glances
               taint
               the
               Air
            
             
               Of
               Virgin-Modesty
               ,
               and
               snare
            
             
               His
               tangling
               Thoughts
               in
               trammels
               of
               her
               ambush
               hair
               .
            
          
           
             
               53
            
             
               With
               her
               profusely
               he
               mispends
               his
               dayes
            
             
               In
               Balls
               ,
               and
               Dances
               ,
               Treatments
               ,
               Playes
               ;
            
             
               And
               in
               his
               Bosome
               this
               close-biting-Serpent
               layes
               .
            
          
           
             
               54
            
             
               Death
               ,
               after
               Sicknesse
               ,
               seize
               this
               Hellen
               must
               ;
            
             
               Whose
               radiant
               Eyes
               ,
               now
               Orbs
               of
               Lust
               ,
            
             
               Shall
               sink
               ,
               as
               falling
               Starres
               ,
               which
               ,
               jelly'd
               ,
               turn
               to
               dust
               .
            
          
           
             
               55
            
             
               How
               wildly
               shewes
               corrupted
               Natures
               Face
               ,
            
             
               Till
               deck't
               by
               
                 Reason
                 ,
                 Learning
                 ,
                 Grace
              
               ?
            
             
               Without
               which
               Politure
               the
               Noblest
               Stem
               is
               base
               !
            
          
           
             
               56
            
             
               Fooles
               rifle
               out
               Times
               Lottery
               :
               Who
               mispend
            
             
               The
               Soules
               rich
               Joyes
               ,
               alive
               descend
               ,
            
             
               And
               antedate
               with
               stings
               their
               never-ending
               End
               !
            
          
           
             
               57
            
             
               Thy
               Acts
               out-sin
               the
               Devil
               ;
               Who
               's
               ne're
               soyl'd
            
             
               With
               Gluttony
               or
               Lust
               ,
               ne're
               foil'd
            
             
               By
               Drink
               ;
               nor
               in
               the
               Net
               of
               Slothfulnesse
               entoyl'd
               .
            
          
           
             
               58
            
             
               Therefore
               in
               Time
               beware
               ;
               let
               not
               Sin-charms
            
             
               Bewitch
               thee
               ,
               till
               Wrath
               cryes
               to
               Arms.
            
             
               Sins
               first
               Face
               smiles
               ,
               her
               second
               frowns
               ,
               her
               third
               Alarms
               .
            
          
           
             
               59
            
             
               How
               blind
               mad
               Sinners
               are
               when
               they
               transgresse
               !
            
             
               All
               Woes
               are
               ,
               than
               such
               Blindnesse
               ,
               lesse
               !
            
             
               That
               Wretch
               most
               wretched
               is
               who
               sleights
               his
               Wretchednesse
               !
            
          
           
             
             
               60
            
             
               When
               Death
               shall
               quench
               thy
               Flames
               ,
               and
               Fiends
               thee
               seize
               ,
            
             
               In
               brimstone-Torrents
               ,
               without
               Ease
               ,
            
             
               Thou
               'lt
               broyl
               mid'st
               blackest
               Fires
               ,
               and
               roar
               mid'st
               burning
               Seas
               !
            
          
        
         
           
             For
             all
             that
             is
             in
             the
             World
             ,
             
               The
               Pride
               of
               Life
            
             ,
             is
             not
             of
             the
             FATHER
             ,
             but
             is
             of
             the
             World
             ;
             and
             the
             World
             passeth
             away
             ,
             and
             the
             Lusts
             thereof
             ,
             &c.
             
          
           
             
               61
            
             
               USher
               Aspiro
               in
               with
               's
               Loomes
               of
               State
               ,
            
             
               To
               weave
               Frauds
               Web
               ,
               and
               his
               own
               Fate
               ;
            
             
               Who
               ,
               mounted
               up
               ,
               throwes
               down
               the
               steps
               him
               rais'd
               of
               late
               ,
            
          
           
             
               62
            
             
               His
               posture
               is
               ambiguous
               ,
               his
               Pace
            
             
               Is
               stately
               high
               ,
               who
               thinks
               it
               Grace
               ,
            
             
               If
               he
               casts
               forth
               a
               word
               ,
               and
               deigns
               but
               half
               a
               face
               :
            
          
           
             
               63
            
             
               Nor
               minds
               he
               what
               he
               speaks
               ;
               For
               by
               false
               Light
               ,
            
             
               Like
               to
               his
               Faith
               ,
               he
               thrives
               ;
               Whose
               Sight
               ,
            
             
               Clouded
               with
               Jealousie
               ,
               can
               never
               judge
               aright
               .
            
          
           
             
               64
            
             
               By
               dubious
               Answers
               he
               is
               wont
               to
               guesse
            
             
               At
               Mens
               Dislikes
               ;
               and
               feares
               no
               lesse
            
             
               Feign'd
               Quips
               ,
               than
               just
               Reproofs
               :
               Fear
               haunts
               him
               in
               each
               Dress
               .
            
          
           
             
               65
            
             
               Ambition
               prompts
               to
               Precipices
               steep
               ,
            
             
               Which
               Envy
               gets
               ,
               and
               Hate
               doth
               keep
               ;
            
             
               His
               daily
               thoughts
               of
               climing
               break
               his
               nightly
               Sleep
               .
            
          
           
             
               66
            
             
               Could
               he
               with
               's
               foot
               spurn
               Empires
               into
               Air
               ,
            
             
               And
               sit
               i'
               th'
               Universall
               Chair
            
             
               Of
               State
               ;
               Were
               Pageants
               made
               for
               him
               ,
               as
               the
               Worlds
               Maior
               ;
            
          
           
             
               67
            
             
               Those
               fond
               Disguisements
               could
               not
               long
               him
               fence
               ,
            
             
               But
               Crosses
               still
               would
               vex
               his
               Sense
               ,
            
             
               And
               leave
               him
               blest
               but
               in
               the
               Preterperfect
               Tense
               .
            
          
           
             
               68
            
             
               Ev'n
               That
               at
               which
               Prides
               towring
               Project
               flies
               ,
            
             
               If
               gain'd
               obliquely
               ,
               sinks
               ,
               and
               dyes
               :
            
             
               Earths
               Potentates
               !
               great
               Aims
               ,
               Plots
               ,
               Fears
               makes
               Tragedies
               ▪
            
          
           
             
               69
            
             
               Achitophel
               and
               Absalon
               prove
               This
               ,
            
             
               (
               Who
               of
               their
               Plots
               ,
               not
               Plagues
               did
               misse
               )
            
             
               To
               
                 Matchiavels
                 :
                 That
                 Ill
                 worst
                 to
                 the
                 Plotter
                 is
                 .
              
            
          
           
             
               70
            
             
               Pompey
               and
               Caesar
               so
               ambitious
               grow
               ,
            
             
               A
               Battel
               must
               be
               fought
               to
               show
            
             
               Which
               of
               those
               Cocks
               o'
               th'
               Game
               o're
               Rome
               at
               last
               should
               crow
               ▪
            
          
           
             
               71
            
             
               The
               World
               ,
               as
               Great
               —
               
                 Cham
                 ,
                 Turk
                 ,
                 Mogul
              
               up-cryes
               ,
            
             
               Tuscans
               Great
               Duke
               ,
               (
               all
               ,
               no
               great
               prize
               )
            
             
               Great
               Alexander
               :
               —
               The
               
                 Nine
                 Worthy
              
               —
               Ironies
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               72
            
             
               Ev'n
               Scepters
               reel
               like
               reeds
               :
               Who
               had
               no
               Bound
               ,
            
             
               Is
               bounded
               in
               six
               foot
               of
               ground
               ;
            
             
               
                 Here
                 lies
                 the
                 Great
              
               —
               Thou
               ly'st
               ,
               here
               but
               his
               dust
               is
               found
               .
            
          
           
             
               73
            
             
               Who
               lately
               swell'd
               to
               be
               his
               Lordships
               slave
               ,
            
             
               May
               trample
               now
               upon
               his
               grave
               ,
            
             
               That
               levells
               All.
               Best
               Lectures
               dust-seel'd
               Pulpits
               have
               .
            
          
           
             
               74
            
             
               Where
               's
               now
               the
               Assyrian
               Lion
               ?
               Persian
               Bear
               ?
            
             
               Greek
               Leopard
               ?
               Romes
               spread-Eagle
               where
               ?
            
             
               Where
               now
               fam'd
               Troy
               ,
               that
               did
               in
               old
               Time
               domineer
               ?
            
          
           
             
               75
            
             
               
               Troy's
               gone
               ,
               yet
               Simois
               stayes
               .
               See
               Fates
               strange
               Play
               !
            
             
               That
               which
               was
               fixt
               ,
               is
               fled
               away
               ;
            
             
               And
               what
               was
               ever
               sliding
               ,
               that
               doth
               onely
               stay
               !
            
          
           
             
               76
            
             
               Therefore
               ,
               why
               gap'st
               thou
               thus
               for
               Shadowes
               ?
               who
            
             
               Neglected
               lets
               the
               Substance
               go
               ,
            
             
               Led
               by
               false
               hope
               ,
               he
               makes
               sad
               End
               in
               endlesse
               Woe
               !
            
          
           
             
               77
            
             
               The
               Mighty
               mighty
               Torments
               shall
               endure
               ,
            
             
               If
               impious
               :
               Hell
               admits
               no
               Cure
               :
            
             
               Ambition's
               never
               safe
               ,
               though
               often
               too
               secure
               .
            
          
           
             
               78
            
             
               If
               Pride
               on
               Wing
               could
               reach
               the
               Starres
               ;
               yet
               shall
               ,
            
             
               Like
               Lucifer
               ,
               its
               Carkase
               fall
               :
            
             
               Pride
               mounted
               Babels
               Tower
               ,
               and
               arched
               Satans
               Hall.
               
            
          
           
             
               79
            
             
               In
               Center
               of
               the
               terrible
               Abysse
               ,
            
             
               Remotest
               from
               Supernall
               Blisse
               ,
            
             
               That
               haplesse
               ,
               hopelesse
               ,
               easelesse
               ,
               endlesse
               Dungeon
               is
               !
            
          
           
             
               80
            
             
               Where
               Nought
               is
               heard
               ,
               but
               Yelling
               !
               
                 O
                 ,
                 that
                 I
              
            
             
               
                 Might
                 once
                 more
                 live
                 !
                 or
                 once
                 more
                 dye
                 !
              
            
             
               Cursing
               his
               Woes
               ,
               he
               wooes
               GODS
               Curse
               Eternally
               !
            
          
        
         
           
             But
             He
             that
             doth
             the
             Will
             of
             GOD
             ,
             abideth
             for
             ever
             .
          
           
             Lord
             ,
             Teach
             us
             so
             to
             number
             our
             dayes
             ,
             that
             we
             may
             apply
             our
             hearts
             unto
             Wisedome
             .
          
           
             
               81
            
             
               LUst
               brings
               forth
               Sin
               ;
               Sin
               Shame
               ;
               Shame-cryes
               ,
               Repent
               ;
            
             
               Repentance
               weeps
               ;
               Teares
               Prayer
               do
               vent
               ;
            
             
               Prayer
               brings
               down
               Grace
               ;
               Grace
               Faith
               ;
               Faith
               Love
               ;
               Love
               zeal
               up
               sent
               .
            
          
           
             
               82
            
             
               Who
               feares
               GOD
               ,
               is
               ,
               without
               Despondence
               ,
               sad
               ;
            
             
               Timorous
               ,
               without
               Despair
               ;
               and
               glad
               ,
            
             
               Without
               wild
               freaks
               :
               Whereas
               the
               
               World's
               Knave
               ,
               Fool
               ,
               or
               Mad.
               
            
          
           
             
               83
            
             
               Part
               should
               the
               World
               what
               are
               in
               Man
               combin'd
               ;
            
             
               The
               Body
               melts
               to
               be
               refin'd
               ;
            
             
               Grace
               cheeres
               the
               Suffering
               ,
               Glory
               crowns
               the
               conquering
               Mind
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               84
            
             
               Nor
               Chance
               ,
               Change
               ,
               Fraud
               ,
               nor
               Force
               ,
               the
               Just
               Man
               fright
               ,
            
             
               In
               greatest
               Pressures
               He
               stands
               right
               ;
            
             
               Ever
               the
               same
               ,
               (
               While
               Sloth
               feels
               Want
               ,
               Ambition
               Spight
               .
               )
            
          
           
             
               85
            
             
               From
               costly
               Bills
               of
               greedy
               Empyricks
               free
               ;
            
             
               From
               Plea
               of
               Ambidexters
               Fee
               ;
            
             
               From
               hypocritick
               Schism
               of
               Kirkish
               Tyranny
               .
            
          
           
             
               86
            
             
               He
               with
               Observance
               honours
               Vertues
               Friends
               ;
            
             
               And
               to
               their
               faithfull
               Counsell
               bends
               ;
            
             
               But
               not
               on
               empty
               formes
               of
               Worldly
               gauds
               depends
               .
            
          
           
             
               87
            
             
               In
               praysing
               GOD
               ,
               above
               the
               Starres
               He
               climes
               ;
            
             
               And
               pitying
               Courts
               ,
               with
               all
               their
               Crimes
               ,
            
             
               And
               Fawns
               ,
               and
               Frownes
               ,
               dares
               to
               be
               good
               in
               Worst
               of
               Times
               .
            
          
           
             
               88
            
             
               Joy
               ,
               Little
               World
               ,
               spite
               of
               the
               Greater
               ,
               blest
               ;
            
             
               Scanted
               abroad
               ,
               within
               dost
               feast
               ,
            
             
               Hast
               CHRIST
               Himself
               for
               Cates
               ,
               The
               Holy
               GHOST
               for
               Guest
               .
            
          
           
             
               89
            
             
               Thou
               walk'st
               in
               Groves
               of
               Myrrh
               ,
               with
               CHRIST
               thy
               Guide
               ,
            
             
               (
               The
               best
               of
               Friends
               that
               e're
               was
               tri'd
               )
            
             
               By
               Thee
               in
               Vale
               of
               Teares
               spirituall
               Joy's
               descry'd
               .
            
          
           
             
               90
            
             
               Knew
               but
               the
               World
               what
               glorious
               Joyes
               still
               move
            
             
               In
               Faiths
               bright
               Orb
               ,
               't
               would
               soar
               above
            
             
               All
               Sense
               ,
               and
               center
               in
               the
               Point
               of
               Heav'nly
               Love
               !
            
          
           
             
               91
            
             
               O
               ,
               Loves
               high'st
               Height
               !
               Thou
               art
               the
               Wise
               mans
               Blisse
               !
            
             
               T'
               enjoy
               Thee
               's
               Heav'n
               ,
               Hell
               Thee
               to
               misse
               !
            
             
               The
               Earth
               ,
               yea
               ,
               Heav'n
               hath
               its
               Beatitude
               from
               This
               !
            
          
           
             
               92
            
             
               No
               Christian
               Kings
               win
               by
               each
               others
               Losse
               ;
            
             
               What
               One
               gets
               by
               Retail
               ,
               in
               Grosse
            
             
               All
               lose
               ;
               While
               still
               the
               Crescent
               gains
               upon
               the
               Crosse.
               
            
          
           
             
               93
            
             
               As
               Children
               fight
               for
               toyes
               ;
               So
               Kings
               for
               clods
               :
            
             
               Heav'ns
               Heir
               's
               more
               great
               ,
               and
               rich
               by
               ods
               :
            
             
               For
               All
               is
               His
               ,
               and
               He
               is
               CHRISTS
               ,
               and
               CHRIST
               is
               GODS
               .
            
          
           
             
               94
            
             
               No
               Bank
               on
               Earth
               such
               Summes
               of
               Wealth
               can
               lend
               ,
            
             
               As
               Saints
               ,
               who
               on
               Heav'ns
               Grace
               depend
               ;
            
             
               GODS
               Word
               their
               Law
               ,
               His
               SPIRIT
               their
               Guide
               ,
               The
               LAMB
               their
               Friend
               .
            
          
           
             
               95
            
             
               But
               ,
               what
               's
               vain
               Man
               ?
               what
               his
               earth-crawling
               Race
               ?
            
             
               That
               GOD
               should
               such
               a
               shadow
               grace
               ,
            
             
               And
               him
               Eternally
               in
               GLORIES
               Region
               place
               ?
            
          
           
             
               96
            
             
               No
               Surfets
               Maw-worm's
               there
               ,
               no
               itch
               of
               Lust
               ,
            
             
               No
               Tympany
               of
               Pride
               ,
               no
               rust
            
             
               Of
               Envy
               ,
               no
               Wraths
               spleen
               ,
               nor
               Obdurations
               crust
               .
            
          
           
             
               97
            
             
               But
               ,
               there
               ,
               though
               Blisse
               exceeds
               ,
               It
               never
               cloyes
               ;
            
             
               For
               ,
               sweet
               Fruitions
               Feast
               employes
            
             
               Still
               new
               Desire
               ;
               Where
               none
               can
               count
               his
               least
               of
               Joyes
               !
            
          
           
             
               98
            
             
               The
               Soul
               there
               (
               throwing
               off
               her
               raggs
               of
               clay
               ,
            
             
               Laid
               in
               Earths
               Ward-robe
               ,
               till
               last
               Day
               )
            
             
               Ever
               triumphs
               in
               every
               Beatifick
               Ray.
               
            
          
           
             
             
               99
            
             
               There
               ,
               each
               Saint
               doth
               an
               endlesse
               Kingdome
               own
               !
            
             
               There
               each
               King
               hath
               a
               starry
               Crown
               !
            
             
               Each
               Scepter
               there
               o'
               re-powers
               the
               Worlds
               ,
               and
               Devils
               frown
               !
            
          
           
             
               100
            
             
               None
               blest
               ,
               but
               He
               who
               finds
               the
               JUDGE
               his
               Friend
               ,
            
             
               When
               the
               last
               Trump
               shall
               Summons
               send
               !
            
             
               The
               End
               doth
               crown
               ,
               the
               Work
               ,
               may
               JESUS
               crown
            
             
               The
               END
               ▪
            
          
        
      
       
         
         
           SUMMA
           SAPIENTIAE
           ,
        
         
           per
           Authorem
           THEOPHILAE
           .
        
         
           
             Nolite
             diligere
             MUNDUM
             ,
             neque
             ea
             quae
             sunt
             in
             MUNDO
             ;
             si
             quis
             dilexerit
             MUNDUM
             ,
             Amor
             PATRIS
             non
             est
             in
             eo
             ,
             &c.
             
          
           
             Johan
             .
             2.
             15
             ,
             16
             ,
             17.
             
          
        
         
           
             1
          
           
             AMbitionis
             ,
             &
             Invidiae
             ,
             &
             Formidinis
             expers
             ,
          
           
             Respuo
             Mundicolas
             ;
             Faveant
             
               Virtutis
               Alumni
            
             :
          
           
             Coelestis
             Statio
             His
             ,
             aestu
             sorbente
             scelestos
             .
          
        
         
           
             2
          
           
             Terrigenae
             !
             quid
             acervus
             Opum
             ?
             quid
             culmen
             Honorum
             ?
          
           
             Flora
             Voluptatum
             ?
             possuntne
             rependere
             Menti
          
           
             Coeligenae
             Vitam
             ,
             quae
             sunt
             peritura
             ,
             perennem
             ?
          
        
         
           
             3
          
           
             Pluribus
             aufugiunt
             Gazae
             pernicibus
             alis
             ;
          
           
             Est
             Honor
             incerti
             demulcens
             aura
             Popelli
             ;
          
           
             Luxuriesque
             vapor
             ;
             —
             Complexim
             cunctaque
             vana
             .
          
        
         
           
             4
          
           
             Munde
             ,
             quid
             haec
             fugiriva
             colis
             ?
             Star
             ,
             nolle
             morari
             :
          
           
             Novimus
             ,
             Impostor
             ,
             quod
             es
             insidiosus
             Amicis
             ;
          
           
             Circaeo
             faciles
             illudis
             Carmine
             Sensus
             .
          
        
         
           
             5
          
           
             Ars
             tibi
             subservire
             studet
             ;
             tibi
             Russica
             molles
          
           
             Exuvias
             Mustela
             parat
             ;
             tibi
             Serica
             Bombyx
             ;
          
           
             Gemmis
             Petra
             ,
             Salum
             Baccis
             tua
             Crimina
             ditant
             ▪
          
        
         
           
             6
          
           
             Fert
             lautas
             tibi
             Luxus
             Opes
             Terrae
             ,
             Aëris
             ,
             Undae
             ;
          
           
             Undè
             Tuis
             properant
             Pinnae
             ,
             Pennaeque
             ,
             Feraeque
             ;
          
           
             Ex
             quibus
             innumeros
             sibi
             procreat
             Helluo
             Morbos
             .
          
        
         
           
           
             7
          
           
             Aspidis
             ira
             tuum
             non
             aequat
             ,
             Munde
             ,
             Venenum
             :
          
           
             Indè
             venenatas
             protrudis
             ad
             Infera
             Mentes
             ,
          
           
             Praestigiis
             damnans
             Cultores
             ,
             Leno
             ,
             Gehennae
             .
          
        
         
           
             8
          
           
             Non
             fatuos
             laxis
             excurrere
             miror
             habenis
             ;
          
           
             In
             Mundo
             solum
             tuus
             expetit
             assecla
             Coelum
             ;
          
           
             Quod
             dare
             ,
             Munde
             ,
             licèt
             videaris
             ,
             ut
             unda
             recedit
             .
          
        
         
           
             9
          
           
             Oscula
             fige
             dolosa
             ,
             Nerone
             neronior
             ipso
             ;
          
           
             Quò
             magìs
             arrides
             ,
             magìs
             hinc
             sibi
             quisque
             caveret
             :
          
           
             Denudabo
             Dolos
             ,
             solvamque
             è
             compede
             plexos
             .
          
        
         
           
             10
          
           
             Perfidiosus
             Amor
             tuus
             est
             ;
             tua
             ,
             bullula
             ,
             bilis
             ,
          
           
             Laus
             ignis
             fatuus
             ,
             tua
             forma
             fugacior
             Euro
             ;
          
           
             Te
             benè
             qui
             norûnt
             miserum
             sensêre
             Theatrum
             :
          
        
         
           
             11
          
           
             Daemon
             ubi
             consors
             Homini
             ;
             Sensusque
             ,
             doloso
          
           
             Ore
             ,
             dat
             injustis
             injusta
             Encomia
             factis
             :
          
           
             Hîc
             audire
             ,
             pative
             ,
             Malúmve
             patrare
             ,
             necesse
             .
          
        
         
           
             12
          
           
             Sunt
             Socii
             fures
             pretiosi
             Temporis
             ;
             istud
          
           
             (
             Vana
             placent
             .
             Vanis
             )
             quodcunque
             loquendo
             refundunt
             ,
          
           
             Flectit
             ad
             ▪
             Illecebras
             sancto
             de
             Tramite
             Mentes
             .
          
        
         
           
             13
          
           
             Praetextu
             Lucis
             ,
             Pessundant
             Sacra
             Profani
             ;
          
           
             Optima
             quae
             fuerant
             ,
             Conventibus
             Omnia
             fiunt
             ;
          
           
             Omnia
             Nil
             Pariunt
             ,
             nisi
             Schismata
             ,
             (
             More
             Corinthi
             .
             )
          
        
         
           
             14
          
           
             Quisquilias
             ,
             Animae
             pretio
             ,
             proponis
             emendas
             ;
          
           
             Provenit
             ex
             
               Opibus
               ,
               Ioculis
            
             ,
             &
             Honoribus
             Angor
             ;
          
           
             Saepè
             Gehennali
             Praeludia
             splendida
             Busto
             !
          
        
         
           
             15
          
           
             Heu
             !
             dum
             Vanipetae
             Plumis
             ,
             ut
             Alauda
             ,
             jocantur
             ,
          
           
             Dumque
             favent
             Scelerum
             Speculis
             ,
             —
             in
             Criminis
             actu
             ,
          
           
             Horrida
             Tartareae
             raptantur
             ad
             Agmina
             Flammae
             !
          
        
         
           
             16
          
           
             Perdanimum
             tu
             ,
             Munde
             ,
             Fretum
             !
             turgescis
             in
             altum
          
           
             Obsequio
             ,
             palles
             Livore
             ,
             Libidine
             falsus
             ,
          
           
             Sanguine
             profuso
             ,
             Rubium
             velut
             Aequor
             ,
             inundas
             .
          
        
         
           
             17
          
           
             Prodigiosa
             refers
             
               Basilisci
               ▪
            
             Lumina
             ,
             primo
          
           
             Destruis
             intuitu
             ,
             visus
             prior
             ,
             ipse
             necaris
             :
          
           
             Teque
             ,
             Tuumque
             Fides
             praevertit
             Acumine
             virus
             .
          
        
         
           
             18
          
           
             Si
             minùs
             immittis
             ,
             mitis
             minùs
             indè
             fuisses
             ;
          
           
             Menti
             ,
             felle
             tuo
             ,
             Panacea
             probata
             paratur
             :
          
           
             Itur
             ad
             Astra
             ,
             per
             Orcum
             ;
             Animae
             sic
             Dis
             fit
             Amicus
             .
          
        
         
           
             19
          
           
             Pondere
             Peccantûm
             Tellus
             gibbosa
             gemiscit
             :
          
           
             Astraea
             ad
             superum
             ,
             violata
             ,
             revertit
             Olympum
             ;
          
           
             Sera
             ,
             at
             certa
             ,
             Reos
             Vindicta
             severa
             prehendet
             .
          
        
         
           
             20
          
           
             An
             Styga
             ,
             Munde
             ,
             Tuis
             tua
             Testamenta
             resignant
             ?
          
           
             I
             tricis
             ,
             Delire
             ,
             tuis
             ad
             Daemona
             ;
             Totum
          
           
             Te
             dedignamur
             :
             —
             sit
             
               ConfLagratIo
               MVnDI
            
             .
          
        
         
           
           
             Nam
             Omnia
             quae
             sunt
             in
             Mundo
             ,
             
               Libido
               Oculorum
            
             ,
             non
             est
             ex
             PATRE
             ,
             sed
             ex
             Mundo
             ,
             &c.
             
          
           
             
               21
            
             
               MIda
               ,
               tende
               Manum
               ;
               tibi
               Gratia
               rara
               ,
               sed
               Auri
            
             
               Satque
               ,
               superque
               ;
               tuum
               Nummum
               ,
               quasi
               Numen
               adoras
               :
            
             
               Tu
               ,
               Numenque
               tuum
               Nummi
               pereatis
               in
               Areâ
               .
            
          
           
             
               22
            
             
               Aestuat
               angustae
               cor
               opertum
               in
               carcere
               Cistae
               :
            
             
               Proli
               ,
               Auri
               grave
               Pondus
               ,
               Humi
               propè
               Viscera
               nati
               !
            
             
               Coelipetas
               premis
               (
               heu
               !
               )
               male-partum
               ,
               ad
               Tartara
               Mentes
               !
            
          
           
             
               23
            
             
               
                 Cui
                 Lucrum
                 Pietas
              
               ;
               —
               Sanctae
               Sacra
               cuncta
               prophanat
            
             
               Scripturae
               :
               —
               Usuram
               Lux
               quaeque
               rependit
               Avaro
               ,
            
             
               Progeniem
               proprii
               postquàm
               incesta
               verit
               Auri.
               
            
          
           
             
               24
            
             
               Inter
               Opes
               es
               inops
               ,
               congesto
               es
               egenus
               in
               Auro
               ;
            
             
               Sic
               ,
               cupiendo
               ,
               cares
               ;
               fulvumque
               ,
               carendo
               ,
               Metallum
            
             
               Eripe
               res
               ipso
               ,
               quo
               fias
               ditior
               ,
               Orco
               .
            
          
           
             
               25
            
             
               Ilia
               dum
               stringunt
               Inopum
               Jejunia
               ,
               tortum
            
             
               Ut
               corium
               ,
               rugosa
               Cutis
               flaccescit
               Eorum
               ,
            
             
               Subdola
               quos
               plexâ
               illexisti
               in
               retia
               Fraude
               .
            
          
           
             
               26
            
             
               Est
               macilenta
               quibus
               pellis
               ,
               velut
               arida
               cortex
               ,
            
             
               Deficiente
               cibo
               ,
               vix
               ossibus
               haeret
               ;
               Amicis
            
             
               Destituuntur
               ,
               Aquis
               ut
               nudae
               in
               Littora
               Phocae
               .
            
          
           
             
               27
            
             
               Pharmaca
               sint
               tenui
               licèt
               His
               Jejunia
               victu
               ,
            
             
               Nilque
               habeant
               Terrae
               ,
               nisi
               Corpora
               ;
               Durior
               Illis
            
             
               Es
               ,
               quàm
               ,
               ▪
               ubi
               decumbunt
               ,
               sunt
               dura
               cubilia
               Saxi
               .
            
          
           
             
               28
            
             
               Sordide
               ,
               quando
               tuas
               
                 (
                 Haeres
                 ita
                 muslitat
                 )
                 ▪
              
               Arcas
            
             
               Evacuabo
               ?
               fores
               minùs
               anxius
               indè
               ;
               Sit
               ipsi
            
             
               Pro
               Cumulo
               Tumulus
               !
               Moriendo
               ,
               Miserrime
               ,
               parcas
               !
            
          
           
             
               29
            
             
               Perfida
               MEROSIAE
               si
               auxêre
               Stipendia
               DIRAE
               ,
               
            
             
               Vive
               ,
               rapax
               Senior●
               ;
               —
               Subito
               tua
               Crimina
               ,
               comple
               :
            
             
               
                 Prospera
                 quêis
                 Peccata
                 ,
                 quid
                 infaelicius
                 illis
                 ?
              
            
          
           
             
               30
            
             
               Auri
               sacra
               Fames
               ,
               quali
               Incantamine
               Mentem
            
             
               Fascinat
               !
               inducens
               placidâ
               Prurigine
               Lepram
               ;
            
             
               Servo
               Verna
               suo
               ,
               crescente
               fit
               indigus
               Aere
               .
            
          
           
             
               31
            
             
               Ingluviem
               forsan
               possis
               satiare
               Sepulchri
               ,
            
             
               Haud
               Oculi
               ;
               Morbo
               periit
               Gehasius
               isto
               :
            
             
               
                 Haec
                 Nox
                 est
                 Animam
                 ,
                 Stulte
                 ,
                 ablatura
                 lutosam
                 !
              
            
          
           
             
               32
            
             
               Civicus
               iste
               Lupus
               Laqueos
               nec
               tenderet
               ullis
               ,
            
             
               Nec
               Curis
               esset
               ,
               Mentem
               torquentibus
               ,
               amens
               ,
            
             
               Cernere
               si
               posset
               quod
               Desperatio
               tendit
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               33
            
             
               Te
               ,
               Danista
               furens
               ,
               non
               est
               profusior
               ullus
               ;
            
             
               Qui
               perdis
               triplicem
               vitreo
               pro
               Munere
               Gemmam
               :
            
             
               Te
               bona
               Fama
               ,
               Quies
               ,
               Anima
               &
               pretiosa
               relinquunt
               !
            
          
           
             
               34
            
             
               Qui
               serit
               Urticas
               ,
               metet
               aspera
               .
               Numen
               Avari
            
             
               Ignifluos
               Erebi
               ad
               Rivos
               deducit
               ;
               adibis
            
             
               Aeternas
               ,
               mollire
               nequis
               si
               Daemona
               ,
               Poenas
               !
            
          
           
             
               35
            
             
               
                 Conscius
                 ipse
                 Mali
                 ,
                 fremit
              
               .
               Ah
               ,
               Miser
               
                 (
                 inquit
              
               )
               ad
               istos
            
             
               Allisus
               pereo
               Scopulos
               !
               me
               Gratia
               liquit
               !
            
             
               Me
               Furor
               invasit
               !
               Me
               cultum
               prodidit
               Aurum
               !
            
          
           
             
               36
            
             
               Tartara
               sunt
               mediâ
               mihi
               saepè
               oblata
               Quiete
               !
            
             
               Indè
               sugam
               videor
               moliri
               à
               Dite
               tremendo
               ,
            
             
               Undique
               dum
               Furiae
               tacito
               Tortore
               flagellant
               !
            
          
           
             
               37
            
             
               Pro
               Radice
               Atheismus
               erat
               ;
               pro
               centupla
               Ramis
            
             
               Factio
               ;
               pro
               variâ
               Simulatio
               Fronde
               ;
               Furores
               ,
            
             
               Raptus
               ,
               &
               Insidiae
               nostrâ
               pro
               Fruge
               fuerunt
               !
            
          
           
             
               38
            
             
               Iusensati
               ,
               &
               Opum
               illecti
               fulgore
               ,
               profanus
            
             
               Sicut
               Esau
               ,
               superam
               post
               terga
               reliquimus
               AULAM
               ;
            
             
               Hinc
               Rabies
               desperat
               ,
               abhinc
               Blasphemia
               frendet
               !
            
          
           
             
               39
            
             
               Sic
               execrandi
               stimulis
               cruciantur
               Avari
               ;
            
             
               Quorum
               visa
               Petrae
               sunt
               Pectora
               ,
               Viscera
               ferrum
               ;
            
             
               Uror
               ,
               ait
               
                 Dives
                 ,
                 tamen
                 unica
                 gutta
                 negatur
                 !
              
            
          
           
             
               40
            
             
               
                 Ignis
                 adurit
                 ubique
                 ,
                 nigredine
                 nigrior
                 Ignis
                 !
              
            
             
               
                 Spectra
                 Oculo
                 !
                 Asp'ra
                 Auri
              
               !
               semper
               sua
               Debita
               Poenis
            
             
               Solvet
               ,
               at
               exsolvet
               nunquam
               quae
               Debita
               Culpis
               !
            
          
        
         
           
             Nam
             Omnia
             quae
             sunt
             in
             Mundo
             ,
             
               Libido
               Carnis
            
             non
             est
             ex
             PATRE
             ,
             sed
             ex
             Mundo
             ,
             &c.
             
          
           
             
               41
            
             
               INtrat
               Asotus
               ovans
               ;
               Vario
               strue
               Flore
               Theatrum
               ;
            
             
               Simia
               quaeque
               aptus
               Spectator
               Cercopitheco
               est
               :
            
             
               Sic
               Caput
               ,
               &
               Collum
               ,
               sic
               Crura
               ,
               &
               Brachia
               torquet
               .
            
          
           
             
               42
            
             
               Pulvere
               conspersus
               ,
               Lux
               est
               aestiva
               ,
               Capillos
               ;
            
             
               Ornant
               ,
               imò
               onerant
               curtas
               Redimicula
               Braccas
               ;
            
             
               Est
               ,
               ac
               si
               Cubitum
               iturus
               ,
               Thorace
               recincto
               .
            
          
           
             
               43
            
             
               Affer
               
                 (
                 ait
              
               )
               Vinum
               ,
               scintillantémque
               Puellam
               ,
            
             
               Ut
               quam
               ,
               Bacche
               ,
               creas
               ,
               extinguat
               Cypria
               Flammam
               !
            
             
               Iupiter
               ascendens
               est
               retrogrado
               Saturno
               .
            
          
           
             
               44
            
             
               Amphora
               quaeque
               parit
               (
               signentur
               prome
               )
               Pyropum
               :
            
             
               Ora
               Mero
               tinctus
               ,
               ceu
               Purpura
               Iudicis
               ,
               ardet
               ,
            
             
               Praemicet
               igniferi
               cùm
               ,
               pro
               Face
               ,
               Pustula
               Nasi
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               45
            
             
               Conde
               tuam
               ,
               moribunde
               ,
               Pyrem
               :
               Si
               ,
               Stulte
               ,
               notares
            
             
               Ut
               fluit
               Ebriaci
               citò
               Mors
               ,
               per
               Gutturis
               Alveûm
               ,
            
             
               Ad
               Phlegethonta
               natans
               ,
               tàm
               tristè
               natare
               paveres
               !
            
          
           
             
               46
            
             
               Crapula
               prae
               nimio
               Luxu
               generatur
               ,
               &
               Hydrops
               ;
            
             
               Fercula
               Ventricolae
               Sudore
               parantur
               Agrestûm
               :
            
             
               Helluo
               quisque
               fodit
               sibi
               dente
               vorace
               Sepulchrum
               .
            
          
           
             
               47
            
             
               Hunc
               Vertigo
               gravat
               .
               Dic
               undè
               Cachexia
               ,
               Doctor
               ,
            
             
               I
               sta
               venit
               ?
               Generatur
               (
               ait
               )
               
                 Vertigo
                 Cerebri
              
            
             
               
                 Flatu
                 Hypochondriaco
                 ,
                 quem
                 Crapula
                 crebra
                 creavit
                 .
              
            
          
           
             
               48
            
             
               Semivalens
               ,
               Miseris
               quod
               prosit
               ,
               Gutture
               sorbet
               ;
            
             
               Mendicique
               ejus
               sub
               dente
               teruntur
               ;
               Egeno
            
             
               Sicca
               negat
               ,
               madidis
               quae
               frusta
               rigaret
               Ocellis
               .
            
          
           
             
               49
            
             
               Divitis
               Exemplo
               ,
               Rationem
               reddet
               amaram
               ;
            
             
               Cujus
               Festa
               Necem
               festinavere
               ;
               Canistrum
            
             
               Mors
               tulit
               horrendum
               ,
               mox
               abstulit
               Omnia
               Daemon
               !
            
          
           
             
               50
            
             
               Luminibus
               jaculando
               Faces
               venit
               Aulica
               Siren
               ,
            
             
               Discat
               &
               ex
               Oculo
               lasciva
               Cupido
               loquaci
               :
            
             
               Blandi
               
                 hanc
                 sollicitant
              
               ,
               Muscam
               ceu
               Trutta
               venustam
               .
            
          
           
             
               51
            
             
               Picta
               Genas
               ,
               variata
               Comas
               ,
               nudata
               Papillas
               ,
            
             
               Affixae
               Malis
               Maculae
               (
               quasi
               Signa
               )
               notant
               quòd
            
             
               Copia
               sit
               Veneris
               ,
               nisi
               desit
               Copia
               Solis
               .
            
          
           
             
               52
            
             
               Aspectu
               damnosa
               suo
               ,
               Basiliscus
               ut
               atrox
               ,
            
             
               Virginei
               castos
               deturpat
               Honoris
               Amores
               ,
            
             
               Subdola
               crispato
               praetendens
               Retia
               Crine
               .
            
          
           
             
               53
            
             
               Cum
               Meretrice
               bonas
               Decoctor
               conterit
               Horas
            
             
               Saltibus
               ,
               &
               Choreis
               ,
               Epulisque
               ,
               Jocisque
               protervis
               ;
            
             
               Hancque
               fovet
               Gremio
               morsuram
               prodigus
               Anguem
               .
            
          
           
             
               54
            
             
               Post
               morbos
               Helenam
               prendent
               hanc
               Tormina
               Mortis
               ;
            
             
               Lumina
               nunc
               cujus
               radiosa
               ,
               Libidinis
               Orbes
               ,
            
             
               In
               Sordes
               ,
               Meteora
               velut
               ,
               Cinerésque
               revertent
               .
            
          
           
             
               55
            
             
               Quàm
               rudis
               informi
               facie
               Natura
               videtur
               ,
            
             
               Donec
               eam
               
                 Ratio
                 ,
                 Doctrina
              
               ,
               &
               Gratia
               forment
               ?
            
             
               Nobilis
               absque
               quibus
               vilescit
               Stemmatis
               Heros
               !
            
          
           
             
               56
            
             
               Integra
               Vita
               perit
               Brutis
               :
               Praesentia
               si
               quis
            
             
               Perpretiosa
               Animae
               disperdit
               Gaudia
               ,
               vivus
            
             
               Deperit
               ,
               infandâ
               semper
               stimulatus
               Erinni
               !
            
          
           
             
               57
            
             
               Daemona
               Flagitiis
               superant
               tua
               Facta
               nefandis
               ;
            
             
               Quem
               Gula
               nec
               faedat
               ,
               lucrosa
               Libido
               nec
               angit
               ,
            
             
               Non
               Vino
               victus
               ,
               non
               à
               Torpedine
               vinctus
               .
            
          
           
             
               58
            
             
               Dum
               licet
               ,
               ergò
               cave
               ;
               Scelerum
               ne
               Fascina
               Sensum
            
             
               Incantent
               ,
               donec
               Furor
               arripit
               Arma.
               Malorum
            
             
               Prima
               placet
               Facies
               ,
               fremit
               altera
               ,
               tertia
               torquet
               .
            
          
           
             
               59
            
             
               O
               ,
               quàm
               sunt
               rabidi
               Peccantes
               Luminis
               Orbi
               !
            
             
               Quaelibet
               Aerumnae
               tali
               sunt
               Nocte
               minores
               !
            
             
               Nemo
               magìs
               Miser
               est
               Misero
               haud
               miserante
               Seipsum
               !
            
          
           
             
             
               60
            
             
               Cùm
               tuus
               effraenis
               sub
               Mortem
               elangueat
               Ardor
               ,
            
             
               Sulphuris
               in
               Stagnum
               raptus
               per
               Daemona
               ,
               nigro
            
             
               Igne
               perureris
               ,
               Pelagóque
               flagrante
               ululabis
               !
            
          
        
         
           
             Nam
             Omnia
             quae
             sunt
             in
             Mundo
             ,
             
               Superbia
               Vitae
            
             ,
             non
             est
             ex
             PATRE
             ,
             sed
             ex
             Mundo
             ;
             &
             Mundus
             transit
             ,
             &
             Libido
             ipsius
             ,
             &c.
             
          
           
             
               61
            
             
               AMbitiosus
               adest
               ,
               fallendi
               callidus
               Arte
               ,
            
             
               Quâ
               texat
               Fraudis
               telam
               ,
               Fatumque
               sinistrum
               ;
            
             
               Dejicit
               ille
               Gradûs
               ,
               per
               quos
               modò
               scandit
               in
               Altum
               .
            
          
           
             
               62
            
             
               Se
               gerit
               ambiguè
               ,
               Gressúsque
               elatior
               illi
               ;
            
             
               Qui
               satìs
               ostensum
               reputat
               ,
               de
               More
               ,
               Favorem
               ,
            
             
               Vel
               tria
               ,
               contorquens
               Vultum
               ,
               si
               Verbula
               Spargat
               :
            
          
           
             
               63
            
             
               Verba
               nec
               illa
               Sinu
               profert
               ;
               Nam
               Luce
               dolosâ
               ,
            
             
               More
               suae
               fidei
               ,
               lucratur
               ;
               cernere
               rectè
            
             
               Non
               Oculus
               Valet
               Errorum
               caligine
               septus
               .
            
          
           
             
               64
            
             
               Si
               quis
               respondet
               dubiè
               ,
               putat
               indè
               cavendum
            
             
               Esse
               sibi
               ;
               &
               ,
               quàmvis
               sint
               ficta
               severa
               ,
               veretur
            
             
               Ac
               si
               vera
               :
               Reum
               Mens
               ,
               undique
               conscia
               ,
               terret
               .
            
          
           
             
               65
            
             
               Praecipiti
               levis
               Ambitio
               petit
               ardua
               Cursu
               ,
            
             
               Invidiam
               pariens
               ,
               Odio
               comitata
               perenni
               ;
            
             
               Nocte
               Diéque
               tumens
               Requiem
               distorquet
               Erinnys
               .
            
          
           
             
               66
            
             
               Si
               cuncta
               expansum
               calcare
               per
               Aëra
               posset
            
             
               Sceptra
               pede
               ,
               &
               Mundi
               regeret
               si
               solus
               habenas
               ,
            
             
               Unicus
               Imperiis
               det
               ut
               omnia
               Jura
               subactis
               ;
            
          
           
             
               67
            
             
               Non
               tamen
               Illa
               diù
               felicem
               reddere
               possent
               ,
            
             
               Undique
               sed
               Curis
               miser
               imperitantibus
               esset
               ,
            
             
               Séque
               fuisse
               sciat
               ,
               non
               sentiat
               esse
               beatum
               .
            
          
           
             
               68
            
             
               Quae
               petit
               Icariis
               Fastus
               sublimior
               Alis
               ,
            
             
               Si
               malè
               parta
               ,
               ruunt
               subitò
               :
               Quaecunque
               
                 cruenta
              
            
             
               Prodidit
               Ambitio
               sunt
               personata
               Theatris
               .
            
          
           
             
               69
            
             
               Hoc
               probat
               Achitophel
               ,
               hoc
               degener
               Absalon
               (
               
                 Ausis
              
            
             
               Defecere
               suis
               ,
               Poenās
               sed
               utérque
               dedêre
               )
            
             
               Matchiavelliacis
               :
               
                 Quod
                 Fraus
                 pessundat
                 Agentem
              
               .
            
          
           
             
               70
            
             
               Ambitione
               pari
               gliscunt
               in
               Praelia
               ,
               diris
            
             
               
                 Pompeius
                 ,
                 Caesár
              
               que
               Animis
               :
               Stat
               ,
               nôsse
               Duelli
            
             
               Arbitrio
               ,
               domitam
               cui
               Sors
               addixerit
               Urbem
               .
            
          
           
             
               71
            
             
               Magnificat
               Mundus
               
                 Chammum
                 ,
                 Turcamque
                 ,
                 Magorque
              
               ,
            
             
               
                 Hetruscumque
                 Ducem
              
               (
               non
               sint
               licèt
               omnia
               tanti
               )
            
             
               Magnum
               &
               
                 Alexandrnm
                 .
                 —
                 Ter
                 Tres
              
               reor
               —
               Ironias
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               72
            
             
               Sunt
               Sceptra
               ,
               ut
               cannae
               :
               Cui
               non
               suffecerat
               Orbis
               ,
            
             
               Sarchophagus
               ,
               licèt
               angustus
               ,
               comprêndit
               .
               Ineptè
            
             
               Dicitui
               ,
               
                 Hîc
                 Magnus
                 jacet
              
               —
               Erro
               ,
               quid
               hîc
               nisi
               pulvis
               ?
            
          
           
             
               73
            
             
               Dudum
               qui
               Satrapae
               servire
               tumebat
               ovanti
               ;
            
             
               Audet
               nunc
               imo
               positum
               calcare
               Sepulchro
               ,
            
             
               Quod
               Cunctos
               aequat
               .
               Documenta
               dat
               optima
               Marmor
               .
            
          
           
             
               74
            
             
               Dic
               ubi
               nunc
               Syrus
               est
               Leo
               ?
               dic
               ubi
               Persicus
               Ursus
               ?
            
             
               Graecus
               ubi
               Leopardus
               abit
               ?
               dispansa
               potentis
            
             
               Romae
               ubi
               nunc
               Aquila
               est
               ?
               ubi
               celsae
               Maenia
               Troiae
               ?
            
          
           
             
               75
            
             
               Troia
               abiit
               ,
               Simoisque
               manet
               .
               Legem
               aspice
               Fati
               !
            
             
               Urbs
               quae
               fixa
               fuit
               ,
               diffugit
               Mobilis
               ;
               atque
            
             
               Permanet
               in
               fluxu
               stabilis
               Constantia
               Rivi
               !
            
          
           
             
               76
            
             
               Ergò
               ,
               quid
               assiduis
               inhias
               Conatibus
               Umbras
               ?
            
             
               Qui
               solidum
               amittit
               Corpus
               ,
               spe
               ductus
               inani
               ,
            
             
               Tristia
               perpetuo
               concludit
               Fata
               Dolore
               !
            
          
           
             
               77
            
             
               Magnates
               ,
               Vos
               magna
               manent
               Tormenta
               ,
               Tyranni
            
             
               Si
               sitis
               ;
               Nulli
               parcit
               furialis
               Erinnys
               ;
            
             
               Saepiùs
               Ambitio
               secura
               est
               ,
               tutaque
               nunquam
               .
            
          
           
             
               78
            
             
               Vertice
               si
               feriat
               pennata
               Superbia
               Stellas
               ;
            
             
               Cum
               Satanâ
               tamen
               est
               ruitura
               ;
               Superbia
               struxit
            
             
               Culmina
               Babelis
               ,
               torvique
               Ergastula
               Ditis
               .
            
          
           
             
               79
            
             
               Terribilis
               dirae
               Centro
               stat
               Carcer
               Abyssi
               ,
            
             
               Sedibus
               à
               superis
               procul
               ,
               ah
               ,
               procul
               Aetheris
               Aulâ
               !
            
             
               Quò
               spes
               nulla
               Boni
               ,
               quò
               Meta
               nec
               ulla
               Malorum
               !
            
          
           
             
               80
            
             
               Ruget
               in
               Igne
               furens
               .
               
                 O
                 ,
                 si
                 mihi
                 vivere
                 rursus
              
            
             
               
                 Fas
                 soret
                 extincto
                 !
                 Mortémve
                 subire
                 !
              
               Perennem
            
             
               Execrando
               DEI
               damnatus
               acuminat
               Iram
               !
            
          
        
         
           
             Sed
             Qui
             facit
             
               Voluntatem
               DEI
            
             ,
             manet
             in
             Aeternum
             .
          
           
             Domine
             ,
             doce
             nos
             dies
             nostras
             ita
             enumerare
             ,
             ut
             applicemus
             Sapientiae
             Corda
             nostra
             .
          
           
             
               81
            
             
               TUrpe
               Libido
               parit
               ;
               Pudor
               hinc
               ;
               resipisce
               susurrat
            
             
               Tunc
               Pudor
               ;
               erumpunt
               Lachrymae
               ;
               Precibusque
               revertit
            
             
               Gratia
               ;
               abindè
               Fides
               ,
               &
               Amor
               ,
               Zelusque
               resurgunt
               .
            
          
           
             
               82
            
             
               Qui
               timet
               OMNISCIUM
               ,
               dolet
               absque
               Horrore
               ;
               pavetque
               ,
            
             
               Sed
               non
               desperat
               ;
               Scelerum
               sine
               turbine
               gaudet
               :
            
             
               Cum
               Mundus
               Nequam
               ,
               Fatuúsve
               Furénsve
               notetur
               .
            
          
           
             
               83
            
             
               Separet
               aetheream
               licèt
               hic
               à
               Corpore
               Mentem
               ;
            
             
               Liquitur
               ut
               tantùm
               deponat
               inania
               Corpus
               :
            
             
               Gratia
               pugnantem
               ,
               Vincentèm
               Gloria
               cingit
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               84
            
             
               Non
               terrent
               Casus
               ,
               Fraus
               ,
               Vis
               ,
               Mutatio
               Iustum
               ;
            
             
               Quò
               magìs
               opprimitur
               ,
               revirescit
               amoenior
               ;
               Usque
            
             
               
                 Par
              
               Sibi
               (
               dum
               Timidúsque
               caret
               ,
               Tumidúsque
               macrescit
               .
               )
            
          
           
             
               85
            
             
               Non
               Medicastrorum
               Sostris
               emungitur
               ;
               Et
               non
            
             
               Lucrosis
               Iuristae
               Ambagibus
               angitur
               ;
               Et
               non
            
             
               Presbyteri
               Hunc
               vexat
               ,
               Scotos
               populata
               ,
               Tyrannis
               .
            
          
           
             
               86
            
             
               Cultori
               eximios
               Virtutis
               praebet
               Honores
               ;
            
             
               Datque
               piis
               monitis
               Aurem
               ;
               Sed
               Phasmata
               Mundi
            
             
               Frivola
               contemnit
               ,
               vacuis
               splendentia
               formis
               .
            
          
           
             
               87
            
             
               TRIN-UNI
               jubilando
               ,
               corusca
               supervolat
               Astra
               ;
            
             
               Cúmque
               suo
               miserans
               pomposa
               Palatia
               Fastu
               ,
            
             
               
                 Astu
                 ,
                 Aestu
              
               ,
               esse
               bonus
               ,
               Vitiis
               ringentibus
               ,
               audet
               .
            
          
           
             
               88
            
             
               Munde
               minor
               ,
               gaude
               ,
               Majore
               fremente
               ,
               beatus
               ;
            
             
               Orbus
               in
               Orbe
               licèt
               ,
               Bellaria
               Mentis
               abundant
               ,
            
             
               SPIRITUS
               est
               Conviva
               Tibi
               ,
               Convivia
               CHRISTUS
               .
            
          
           
             
               89
            
             
               Dirigis
               ad
               Myrrhae
               Lucos
               ,
               Duce
               NUMINE
               ,
               gressus
               ;
            
             
               (
               CHRISTUS
               enim
               Lateri
               fidissimus
               astat
               Achates
               )
            
             
               Delicias
               Coeli
               Lachrymarum
               è
               Valle
               tueris
               .
            
          
           
             
               90
            
             
               Si
               sciret
               Mundus
               quae
               Gloria
               ,
               Gaudia
               quanta
            
             
               Arcessenda
               Fide
               ,
               Sensum
               sublimibus
               Alis
            
             
               Sperneret
               ,
               immensóque
               DEI
               flagraret
               Amore
               !
            
          
           
             
               91
            
             
               O
               ,
               Quis
               Amoris
               Honor
               !
               Felicibus
               unica
               Merces
               !
            
             
               Te
               coluisse
               valet
               Coelum
               ,
               caruisse
               Barathrum
               !
            
             
               Hinc
               ornatur
               Humus
               ,
               micat
               hinc
               Seraphinus
               Olympus
               !
            
          
           
             
               92
            
             
               Bellica
               Christiadum
               Discordia
               dira
               Regentûm
               !
            
             
               Uni
               quod
               Palma
               ,
               est
               Reliquis
               Jactura
               ;
               Per
               Orbem
            
             
               Dum
               Vexilla
               Crucem
               debellant
               Turcica
               CHRISTI
               .
            
          
           
             
               93
            
             
               Pro
               nuce
               ,
               ceu
               Pueri
               ,
               confligunt
               undique
               Reges
               :
            
             
               Ditior
               his
               Coeli
               ,
               longéque
               potentior
               ,
               Haeres
               ;
            
             
               Cuncta
               tenens
               ,
               cùm
               sit
               CHRISTI
               ,
               CHRISTUS
               que
               DEI
               sit
               .
            
          
           
             
               94
            
             
               Totus
               ,
               Munde
               ,
               tuus
               Thesaurus
               deficit
               ;
               atquì
            
             
               Coelica
               pro
               solido
               satis
               est
               His
               Gratia
               Fulcro
               ,
            
             
               Queîs
               Lex
               Jussa
               DEI
               ,
               Dux
               SPIRITUS
               ,
               AGNUS
               Amicus
               .
            
          
           
             
               95
            
             
               Sed
               ,
               quid
               inanis
               Homo
               ?
               terrae
               quid
               origo
               repentis
               ?
            
             
               Tantillae
               quòd
               Tanta
               DEUS
               concederet
               umbrae
               ?
            
             
               Inque
               Beatorum
               supremâ
               Sede
               locaret
               !
            
          
           
             
               96
            
             
               Non
               ibi
               Guttur
               hians
               ,
               petulansve
               Libidinis
               Aestus
               ,
            
             
               Turgescens
               non
               Fastus
               ibi
               ,
               livensve
               Rubigo
               ,
            
             
               Ira
               nec
               excrucians
               ,
               aut
               Obduratio
               crustans
               .
            
          
           
             
               97
            
             
               Sed
               fluit
               Infinita
               ,
               ut
               &
               insatiata
               Beatis
               ,
            
             
               Usque
               Potita
               licèt
               ,
               tamen
               usque
               Petita
               Voluptas
               !
            
             
               Quarum
               quae
               minor
               est
               Animi
               transcendit
               Acumen
               !
            
          
           
             
               98
            
             
               Mens
               ibi
               (
               deposito
               terrenae
               Pondere
               Molis
            
             
               Telluris
               Camerâ
               ,
               summum
               expectante
               Tribunal
               ,
               )
            
             
               Iugitèr
               Angelico
               suffusa
               Nitore
               triumphat
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               99
            
             
               Quisque
               ibi
               Sanctorum
               Regno
               sine
               Fine
               fruetur
               !
            
             
               Quisque
               ibi
               stellato
               Rex
               est
               Diademate
               cinctus
               !
            
             
               Quaeque
               ibi
               Sceptra
               premunt
               Mundi
               Satanaeque
               Furorem
               ▪
            
          
           
             
               100
            
             
               Faelix
               Nemo
               nisi
               cui
               JUDEX
               astat
               Amicus
               ,
            
             
               Buccina
               terribilis
               cùm
               clanxerit
               ultima
               ,
               Surge
               !
            
             
               Meta
               coronat
               Opus
               ,
               Metamque
               coronet
               IESUS
               !
            
          
        
         
           FINIS
           .
        
         
         
      
    
     
       
         Notes, typically marginal, from the original text
         
           Notes for div A27386-e6330
           
             Judg.
             5.
             23.
             
          
        
      
    
  

