EMBLEM VI.

PROV. 26, v. 11.

As a dog returneth to his vomit, so a fool returneth to his folly.

I.

TOUCH it no more, fond Boy!

But think thyself well loose

From such a load !-employ

Thy senses to a better use !

For all thy toil, what dost possess of its possessions?

Disease! from revel nights-and hollow false professions

II.

Sickness doth sometimes prove

A good; and works a change

So thine may mercy move,

And thee from earth estrange;

Thy ague-stricken limbs, oppressed by mammon weight

Have toppled off their load-thy worse than worthless

freight.

III.

How thou hast puff'd, and blow'd,

And vainly spent thy breath,

And stagger'd with thy load,

And gasp'd as one in death!

Know Boy! thy hot-cold malady is earth begot,

And wilt thou strive again, to gain so foul a lot?

IV

Thou hast escap'd-unhurt

Without a crick-fond Boy!

Dost woo again the flirt,

The gilded cheating toy?

'Tis full of bubbles, bawbles, snares, and turpitude

Give it no more thy love-thy willing servitude.

V.

Hast thou ambition? rise

From earth to things above,

To heaven thy downcast eyes,

And choose a nobler love

There may'st thou rest from toil—and loads oppressing

In realms of joy, 'midst treasures worth possessing.