CXI Epitaph
In this marble casket lies
A matchless jewel of rich price;
Whom Nature in the world’s disdain
But showed, and put it up again.
Anon.
CXII The World’s Fallacies
False world, thou liest: thou canst not lend
The least delight:
Thy favours cannot gain a friend,
They are so slight:
Thy morning pleasures make an end 5
To please at night:
Poor are the wants that thou suppliest:
And yet thou vaunt’st, and yet thou viest
With heaven; fond earth, thou boast’st; false world, thou liest.
Thy babbling tongue tells golden tales 10
Of endless treasure:
Thy bounty offers easy sales
Of lasting pleasure:
Thou ask’st the conscience what she ails,
And swear’st to ease her; 15
There’s none can want where thou suppliest,
There’s none can give where thou deniest;
Alas! fond world, thou boast’st; false world, thou liest.
What well-advisèd ear regards
What earth can say? 20
Thy words are gold, but thy rewards
Are painted clay:
Thy cunning can but pack the cards,
Thou canst not play:
Thy game at weakest, still thou viest; 25
If seen, and then revied, deniest:
Thou art not what thou seem’st; false world, thou liest.
Thy tinsel bosom seems a mint
Of new-coined treasure;
A paradise, that has no stint, 30
No change, no measure;
A painted cask, but nothing in’t,
Nor wealth, nor pleasure.
Vain earth! that falsely thus compliest
With man; vain man, that thou reliest 35
On earth: vain man, thou doat’st; vain earth, thou liest.
What mean dull souls in this high measure
To haberdash
In earth’s base wares, whose greatest treasure
Is dross and trash; 40
The height of whose enchanting pleasure
Is but a flash?
Are these the goods that thou suppliest
Us mortals with? Are these the highest? 44
Can these bring cordial peace? False world, thou liest.
Francis Quarles.