Chapter XII. The desires of Gluttony, and Lust, and other Vanities, what they will end in

Moreover he added, and do thou also confess as much to thy naughty and unprofitable Servant. Nor canst thou deny that with all their services they never were able at any time in the least to satisfy thee. The pleasure of the Throat, which in these days is so much set by, has hardly the bredth of two fingers; and so small a delight of so little a part, with how great solicitude is it procured, and then how great a trouble does it cause? Hereby the moist Reins are monstrously dilated, the swelled Belly is not so much made fat, as it is impregnated, made big with ruine and perdition; and whilst the Bones are not able to sustain the burden of the flesh, are bred also divers Diseases. So also the Quagmire of enticing Lust, with what labour and losses sometimes of Name and Honour, and with danger even of Life it self, is it obtained, how does its sulphureous vapour, burning for a spurt, gall with pricking-goads its raging-mad Votaries; and like a swarm of Bees, when it shall have voided its mischievously grateful honey, how does it infix in their wounded hearts too too tenacious a bite? whose Appetite is known to be accompanied with anxiety and madness, its Act with abomination and ignimony, and its End with repentance and shame. Then as for vain Sights and Shows, I ask what they profit the body, or wherein they seem to avail the mind? Assuredly you will find nothing in man to which Curiosity is profitable. A frivolous, vain, and trivial solace; nor know I how to wish him a greater Curse, who flying the peace of a pleasing quiet, is delighted with a curious restlesness, that he may always want something that he may seek for. And even from hence it is manifest, that in all these things there is no content, whose very passing is the only thing that delights us. Then, as for the vanity of vanities, Vain-glory, how that it is nothing, 'tis manifest out of its very name. Vain therefore must needs be that labour which is spent in the pursuit of Vanity. O Glory, Glory, (said a Wise man) in the thousands of Mortals, thou art nothing else but a vain inflation of the ears; and yet notwithstanding, how great an infelicity think'st thou, does this very, not so much happy Vanity, as vain Felicity, breed? For from hence proceeds blindness of heart, as it is written; O my people, they that call thee Blessed, draw thee into error. Hence Animosity, a stiff-necked Fury, hence the anxious unquiet of Suspition, hence the cruel torment of Spite, and miserable racking of trembling Envy; hence an insatiable love of Riches, which do far more torture the mind with their desire, than they recreate it with their enjoyment; for that the getting of them is found to be full of labour, the possession of them full of fear, and the loss of them full of grief. Finally, where there are much Riches, there are many also who devour them: and indeed the use of Riches is with others, only the name of them, and the solicitude remains to the Rich. And in all these matters, for such little things, or rather not so much little things, as indeed nothings, to set light by that Glory which neither eye has seen, nor ear heard, nor has it entred into the heart of man, that God has prepared for those that love him; does not seem so much to proceed from foolishness, as from infidelity.