Let not him that is deceived trust in vanity, for vanity shall be his recompence.
AMBITION bellows with the wind of honour,
Puffs up the swelling heart that dotes upon her:
Which, filled with empty vanity, breathes forth
Nothing, but such things as are nothing worth.
The bane of kingdoms, world's disquieter,
Hell's heir apparent, Satan's eldest son,
Abstract of ills, refin'd elixir,
And quintessence of sin, ambition,
Sprung from th' infernal shades, inhabits here,
Making man's heart its horrid mansion,
Which, tho' it were of vast extent before,
Is now pufft up, and swells still more and more.
Whole armies of vain thoughts it entertains,
Is stuff'd with dreams of kingdoms, and of crowns,
Presumes of profit without care or pains,
Threatens to baffle all its foes with frowns,
In ev'ry bargain makes account of gains,
Fancies such frolick mirth as choaks and drowns
The voice of conscience, whose loud alarms
Cannot be heard for pleasure's countercharins.
CORDIS VANITAS.
Ambitio Follis.vento distendit Honorum
Cor vanum:hine spirat nil nisi grande Nihil.
The VANITY of the HEART.
up with Honours Wind the Heart grows vain Tho a great Nothing is the whole you gain.
Wer't not for anger, and for pity, who
Could chuse but smile to see vain-glorious men
Racking their wits, straining their sinews so,
That, thorough their transparent thinness, when
They meet with wind and sun, they quickly grow
Riv'led and dry, shrink till they crack again,
And all but to seem greater than they are?
Stretching their strength, they lay their weakness bare.
See how hell's fueller his bellows plies,
Blowing the fire that burnt too fast before:
See how the furnace flames, the sparkles rise
And spread themselves abroad still more and more!
See how the doting soul hath fix'd her eyes
On her dear fooleries, and doth adore,
With hands and heart lift up, those trifling toys
Wherewith the devil cheats her of her joys!
Alas, thou art deceiv'd; that glitt'ring crown,
On which thou gazest, is not gold but grief;
That sceptre, sorrow: if thou take them down,
And try them, thou shalt find what poor relief
They could afford thee, tho' they were thine own.
Didst thou command ev'n all the world in chief,
Thy comforts would abate, thy cares increase,
And thy perplexed thoughts disturb thy peace.
Those pearls so thorough pierc'd, and strung together,
Tho' jewels in thine ears they may appear,
Will prove continu'd perils, when the weather
Is clouded once, which yet is fair and clear.
What will that fan, tho' of the finest feather,
Stead thee, the brunt of winds and storms to bear?
Thy flagging colours hang their drooping head,
And the shrill trumpet's sound shall strike thee dead.
Were all those balls, which thou in sport dost toss,
Whole worlds, and in thy power to command,
The gain would never countervail the loss,
Those slipp'ry globes will glide out of thine hand;
Thou canst have no fast hold but of the cross,
And thou wilt fall, where thou dost think to stand.
Forsake these follies, then, if thou wilt live;
Timely repentance may thy death reprieve,
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