Prison-Pietie or, Meditations Divine and Moral. Digested into Poetical Heads, On Mixt and Various Subjects. Whereunto is added A Panegyrick to The Right Reverend, and most Nobly descended, Henry, Lord Bishop of London. By Samuel Speed, Prisoner in Ludgate, London |
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On Luxury. |
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On Luxury.
Seneca speaks of some (of tender yearsSuppos'd) that hang'd their Lordships at their ears.
And in our time, Gallants, to their disgrace,
Convert their Lands to Feathers and to Lace;
Wasting their Rents to purchase Silks and Stuffs,
Mortgaging Mannours to procure them Muffs.
This they have left, when all things else are gone;
Air for their breath, and Earth to tread upon.
Apicius in his Kitchin did expend
Two millions of Gold; and in the end,
Having devour'd so much, begins to think
What might remain of his huge mass of Chink:
Finding Two hundred thousand crowns, no more,
He then concluded he was waxing poor:
Too little 'twas his humour to suffice,
Wherefore he poyson drinks, and so he dies.
Thus our Estates, though large, in vain are spent,
When the main thing is wanting; that's Content.
The Glutton Philoxenus did inveigh
Against Dame Nature, and for what, I pray?
It was because his neck was made so short,
His eating was no recreating sport,
But wisht his neck were like a Cranes for length,
Better to relish his sweet morsels strength.
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Sufficient is to keep him from despair.
How many golden Mines at stake must lie,
To bear the charge of Prodigality?
Of Henry Duke of Guise it hath been said,
Usury was his pleasure and his trade:
For when his large Estate to ashes burn'd,
At last it all to Obligations turn'd.
But he that spendeth all to please his friend,
Perhaps may visit him, but want i'th'end.
But the three B's, Back, Belly, Building, have
To fair Estates each one become a Graze.
Luxurious men this for themselves may say,
Their hands are their Executors, and they
Before old age approach to make their years
Many, their eyes are their own Overseers.
Much of their Patrimonies they expend
Upon their Guts, the rest to Harlots lend;
Who usually do leave him full as bare
As Crows do leave a Carcass; and 'tis rare
When Riot doth into man's Senses steal,
But certain Ruine follows at the heel.
Beggery doth on Luxury attend,
When the poor Spendthrift hath no other friend;
And doth at last so despicable grow,
He is beneath the thought of Friend or Foe.
The Drunkard and the Glutton, e're he die,
Shall know the want of Superfluitie.
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