Here let my life, with as much silence slide,
As time that measures it does glide.
Nor let the breath of infamy or fame,
From town to town echo about my name;
Nor let my homely death embroidered be
With scutcheon or with elegy.
An old plebeian let me die,
Alas, all then are such, as well as I.
To him, alas, to him, I fear,
The face of death will terrible appear;
Who in his life, flattering his senseless pride
By being known to all the world beside,
Does not himself, when he is dying, know;
Nor what he is, nor whither he's to go.
OF AGRICULTURE.
The first wish of Virgil (as you will find anon by his verses), was
to be a good philosopher; the second, a good husbandman; and God
(whom he seemed to understand better than most of the most learned
heathens) dealt with him just as he did with Solomon: because he
prayed for wisdom in the first place, he added all things else which
were subordinately to be desired. He made him one of the best
philosophers, and best husbandmen, and to adorn and communicate both
those faculties, the best poet. He made him, besides all this, a
rich man, and a man who desired to be no richer, O fortunatas nimium
et bona qui sua novit.
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