32.

The Clerk.

36.

The Painter.

Sir Clerk! lay down thy pen I say.Must come with me, be cast away.For others dost thou wills indite,Look thou thine own be made aright.

Sir Painter! to delineateI given was a strange portrait.Such as I am, canst not portray;Like me thyself must be I say.

33-

The Architect.

Why buildings high to rear dost strive?Thou canst not all things new contrive.Dig one ell only in the grownd,And thou a walled house hast found.

37-

Th

e Sculptor.

Sculptor! lay down thy measure true.Doth number Death thy moments few.A Death's head hath thy tool begun,Close but thine eyes, and it is done.

34-

The Apothecary.

Why boastest thou thy vaunted pills,Thy physics, cure thee of all ills?If Death's cold finger touch the heart,No syrups help, nor yet thine art.

38.

Th

e Hunters.

In eager chase game hast thou sought,Hast hunted much, but little caught.Thyself I with my net ensnare,Death's hand it is doth strike thee fair.

35-

The Estafette.

Why to thy regiment dost call?Thou must into my hands now fall.No skill, no might, no art of warDefendeth the my guard before.

39-

Th

e Goldsmith.

Goldsmith! thou dost in ways untold.Thy silver vessels cast and mould.As thou hast smelted, must be cast.Poor earthen vessel, canst not last.