(9) For lives, I do find strange that these times have so little
esteemed the virtues of the times, as that the writings of lives
should be no more frequent. For although there be not many
sovereign princes or absolute commanders, and that states are most
collected into monarchies, yet are there many worthy personages that
deserve better than dispersed report or barren eulogies. For herein
the invention of one of the late poets is proper, and doth well
enrich the ancient fiction. For he feigneth that at the end of the
thread or web of every man's life there was a little medal
containing the person's name, and that Time waited upon the shears,
and as soon as the thread was cut caught the medals, and carried
them to the river of Lathe; and about the bank there were many birds
flying up and down, that would get the medals and carry them in
their beak a little while, and then let them fall into the river.
Only there were a few swans, which if they got a name would carry it
to a temple where it was consecrate. And although many men, more
mortal in their affections than in their bodies, do esteem desire of
name and memory but as a vanity and ventosity,
"Animi nil magnae laudis egentes;"
which opinion cometh from that root, Non prius laudes contempsimus,
quam laudanda facere desivimus: yet that will not alter Solomon's
judgment, Memoria justi cum laudibus, at impiorum nomen putrescet:
the one flourisheth, the other either consumeth to present oblivion,
or turneth to an ill odour.
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