For this Senecio I have no compassion, because he was taken, as we say, in _ipso facto_, still labouring in the work of avarice; but the poor rich man in St. Luke (whose case was not like this) I could pity, methinks, if the Scripture would permit me, for he seems to have been satisfied at last; he confesses he had enough for many years; he bids his soul take its ease; and yet for all that, God says to him, “Thou fool, this night thy soul shall be required of thee, and the things thou hast laid up, whom shall they belong to?” Where shall we find the causes of this bitter reproach and terrible judgment; we may find, I think, two, and God perhaps saw more. First, that he did not intend true rest to the soul, but only to change the employments of it from avarice to luxury; his design is to eat and to drink, and to be merry. Secondly, that he went on too long before he thought of resting; the fulness of his old barns had not sufficed him, he would stay till he was forced to build new ones, and God meted out to him in the same measure; since he would have more riches than his life could contain, God destroyed his life and gave the fruits of it to another. Thus God takes away sometimes the man from his riches, and no less frequently riches from the man: what hope can there be of such a marriage where both parties are so fickle and uncertain; by what bonds can such a couple be kept long together? I. Why dost thou heap up wealth, which thou must quit, Or, what is worse, be left by it? Why dost thou load thyself, when thou’rt to fly, O man ordained to die? II. Why dost thou build up stately rooms on high, Thou who art underground to lie? Thou sow’st and plantest, but no fruit must see; For death, alas? is sowing thee. III. Suppose, thou fortune couldst to tameness bring, And clip or pinion her wine; Suppose thou couldst on fate so far prevail As not to cut off thy entail. IV. Yet death at all that subtlety will laugh, Death will that foolish gardener mock Who does a slight and annual plant engraff, Upon a lasting stock. V. Thou dost thyself wise and industrious deem; A mighty husband thou wouldst seem; Fond man! like a bought slave, thou, all the while Dost but for others sweat and toil. VI. Officious fool! that needs must meddling be In business that concerns not thee! For when to future years thou extend’st thy cares, Thou deal’st in other men’s affairs. VII. Even aged men, as if they truly were Children again, for age prepare, Pro visions for long travail they design In the last point of their short line. VIII.