_Lord_, what a coyle men keepe, and, with what care Their _Pistolls_, and, their _Swords_ doe they prepare, To be in readinesse? and, how they load Themselves with Irons, when they ride abroad? How wise and wary too, can they become, To fortifie their persons up at home, With lockes, and barres? and such _domestick-Armes_, As may secure their bodies, there, from harmes? However, when all’s done, we see, their foes Breake in, sometimes, and worke their overthrowes. For, though (about themselves, with Cable-quoiles, They could inclose a hundred thousand miles) The _gunshot_ of a slanderous _tongue_, may smite, Their _Fame_ quite through it, to the very _White_. Yea, more (though, there, from others, they were free) They wounded, by themselves, to death might be, Except their _Innocence_, more guards them, than The strength of twenty royall _Armies_, can. If, therefore, thou thy _Spoylers_, wilt beguile, Thou must be armed, like this _Crocodile_; Ev’n with such nat’rall _Armour_ (ev’ry day) As no man can bestowe, or take away: For, spitefull _Malice_, at one time or other, Will pierce all borrowed _Armours_, put together. _Without_, let _Patience_ durifie thy Skin; Let _Innocencie_, line thy heart _within_; Let constant _Fortitude_, unite them so, That, they may breake the force of ev’ry blow: And, when thou thus art _arm’d_, if ill thou speed; Let me sustaine the _Mischiefe_, in thy steed. _Finis Libri secundi._ [Illustration: Decoration] THE SECOND LOTTERIE. 1 Some friends, and foes, of thine, there be, That make a _wondring-stocke_ of thee; Some other over-much, of late, To thy dishonour boldly prate, And, peradventure, to thy face, E’re long, they’l doe thee some disgrace: Thine _Emblem_, therefore, doth advise That thou should’st make them no replies; And showes that _silent-patience_, than Shall stead thee more then _Answers_ can. See, _Emblem._ I. 2 By such as know you, it is thought, That, you are better _fed_ then _taught_: And, that, it might augment your _wit_, If you were sometimes _hunger-bit_. That _Emblem_, which by _Lot_ you drew, To this effect doth somewhat shew: But 'twill goe hard, when you are faine, To feed your _Bowells_, by your _Braine_. See, _Emb._ II. 3 Perhaps you may be one of those, Whom, from the _Church_, an _Organ_ blowes; Or, peradventure, one of them, Who doth all melody contemne: Or, one, whose _life_ is yet untaught, How into _tune_ it should be brought. If so, your _Lot_, to you hath sent An _Emblem_, not impertinent. See, _Emb._ III. 4