Fond man, as if too little grief were given
130On Earth, draws down inquietudes from Heaven!
Permits himself with fear to be unmann'd,
Belshazzar-like, grows wan and pale,
His very heart begins to fail,
Is frighted at that Writing of the Hand,
Which yet nor he, nor all his learn'd magicians understand.
VIII.
And now at last what's the result of all?
Should the strict audit come,