Page:The Fables of Bidpai (Panchatantra).djvu/142

46 wonderfull preence: and that little breath of ours once pent, it is then but a hadowe, dut and moke. Thee worldly fauours and temporall goodes in the iudgement of the wie eeme but as nowe, which with the firt beames of the Sunne diolveth and commeth to nothing. Lord, what cot do we betow vpon our heares and face, which when the Barber clippeth of, are depied and throwne away? A man mould neuer trut this foolihe life. It is but a fire kindled on the coles, which conuming it elfe giueth heate to others. The Phiition truly that cureth the dieae of the bodie is a worthie pirite of man: but he that healeth us of our innes is a celetiall God. Hee that can hunne the water of this riuer, which carrieth in his coure, Pride, vaine glorie, laciuiounee, couetounee, preumption, infirmities, and loe: may be called diuine and not humaine. Let no man put his foote into the water of carnall loue, neyther his legge into the fale waues of thee goodes, nor wahe his bodie in the glorie of this malignant time, neyther eeke continually to wimme in the middet of thee felicities: for all paeth awaye to oure loe and vndoing. The rich Indian merchaunt Sotrates richly furnihed his houe with undrie orts of merchaundie with his