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Link to an image of this page  Link to an image of this page  [C4v]

SEMPER PRAESTO ESSE
infortunia.

Misfortune is always at hand

Three women talking
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Ludebant parili tres olim aetate puellae
Sortibus, ad stygias quae prior iret aquas.
Ast cui iactato male cesserat alea talo,
Ridebat sortis caeca puella suae.
Cum subito icta caput labente est mortua tecto,
Solvit & audacis debita fata ioci.
Rebus in adversis mala sors non fallitur, ast in
Faustis, nec precibus nec locus est manui.[1]

Once three girls of the same age were amusing themselves, casting lots to see which of them would be the first to go to the waters of the Styx. When the dice were cast, the throw fell out unluckily for one of them, but she laughed with blind contempt at the fate predicted for her. Then suddenly she died, struck on the head as the roof fell in, and so paid the fated penalty for her bold mockery. In misfortune, a bad omen cannot be eluded, but even in prosperity neither prayers nor action have any place.

Notes:

1.  This is a translation of Anthologia graeca 9.158.

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Link to an image of this page  Link to an image of this page  [O2v f93v]

EMBLEMA CXLVI.

Mentem non formam plus pollere.

Intelligence matters, not beauty

Fox holding a mask
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Link to an image of this page  Link to an image of this page  [O3r f94r]

Ingressa vulpes in Choragi pergulam,
Fabrè expolitum invenit humanum caput
Sic eleganter facricatum [=fabricatum] , ut spiritus
Solùm deesset, caeteris vivisceret:
Id illa cùm sumpsisset in manus ait:
Hoc[1] quale caput est, sed cerebrum non habet.[2]

A fox, entering the store-room of a theatrical producer, found an actor’s mask, skilfully shaped, so finely fashioned that the spirit alone was missing, in all else it seemed alive. Taking it up, the fox addressed it - What a head is this, but it has no brain!

Das CXLVI.

Das Gemüt ist uber die gestalt.

Ein Füchßlin schluff in ein Werckstat
Eins Kunstreichen Bildhauwers drat
Darinn es fandt schön außpoliert
Eines Menschen Haupt und geziert
Also lieblich daß anderst nicht
Mangelt, dann daß es war erticht
Und hett kein Geist sonst wer es gsein
Als wer es lebendig und fein
Diß das Füchßlin in sein Füß fast
Und hin und wider wol betast
Sprach es, was ist es für ein Kopff
Hat es doch kein Hiren im Schopff?

Notes:

1.  Textual variant: ‘O’.

2.  See Phaedrus, Fables 1.7 (also in iambic senarii); Aesop, Fables 43.

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