$
TEXT_EXPL_XML <p>WOULD'ST early by successful in thy suit,<lb/>
                                        Nor languish long in Love's consuming flame?-<lb/>
                                        In Beauty's gardem, shun the unripe fruit,<lb/>
                                        And breathe thy passion to the riper dame.<lb/>
                                        The fruit that's green clings longest to the tree,<lb/>
                                        <pb n="uiuc_83931c29eep_fac134"/>
                                        Nor willing yields to leave the parent spray;<lb/>
                                        While that which has attain'd maturity,<lb/>
                                        Warm'd to the core beneath the funny ray,<lb/>
                                        Yields to the touch- and quickly comes away.</p>
                                   <p>-TOLLE cupidinem<lb/>
                                        Immitis uvae:<lb/>
                                        Jam te sequetur, jam protervâ<lb/>
                                        Fronte petet Lalage maritum.-HORACE, lib. 2, Car. Od. 5.<lb/>
                                        -Primis et adhuc crescentibus annis.<lb/>
                                        Non mentem Venus ipsa dedit.</p>
                                   <p>Homo pomo similis.<lb/>
                                        LIKE unto Man whose course is nearly run,<lb/>
                                        The Apple, ripen'd by the autumn sun,<lb/>
                                        Yields to the touch, or to the slightest breath,<lb/>
                                        And falling-is the image of his Death.<lb/>
                                        But not alone in this the semblance lies<lb/>
                                        Between the Man's and Apple's destinies:<lb/>
                                        The ripe, in Age, part ready from the spray-<lb/>
                                        The green, in Youth, are torn by force away.</p>
                                   <p>Un homme, une pomme.<lb/>
                                        Nos corps, comme les fruits aux arbres attachés,<lb/>
                                        Ou meurent, tombent en terre, ou verds sont arrachés. -DU VAIR'S Epictetus.<lb/>
                                        IL me semble, que la dite comparaison est encore en la fleur de son age, et d'un<lb/>
                                        bon vieil homme, qui jà penchant vèrs la terre. -DU VAIR.<lb/>
                                        It is said, by the Philosopher, ''Omnia quae secundùm naturan sunt, sunt habenda<lb/>
                                        in bonis.''But all that happens to us contrary to the usual course of nature, is gene-<lb/>
                                        rally considered lamentable. Cicero, who seems to share the sentiment of Epictetus,<lb/>
                                        and who borrowed from him in his book ''De Senectute,''expresses himself in yet<lb/>
                                        more elevated and impressive terms:<lb/>
                                        <pb n="uiuc_83931c29eep_fac135"/>
                                        Adolescentes mihi mori sie videntur, ut aquae multitudine flammae vis opprimitur.<lb/>
                                        Senex autem, sicut suâ sponte nullâ vi adhibitâ consumtus ignis extinguitur: et quasi<lb/>
                                        poma ex arboribus, cruda si sint, si velluntur; si matura et cocta, dedicunt. Sicut vitam<lb/>
                                        adolescentibus vis aufert. sic senibus maturitas.</p>
                                   <p>Quod crudam, idem et pertinax.<lb/>
                                        THE fruit that's ripe, parts willing from the tree;<lb/>
                                        Unripe, 'tis not so willing to comply:<lb/>
                                        Who call'd by Death resists his destiny,<lb/>
                                        Proves most that he is unprepar'd to die.<lb/>
                                        IT is sad to die before the time: idle speech! Before what time? Before that<lb/>
                                        prescribed by Nature? But Nature lent life to us only, without fixing the term of<lb/>
                                        its withdrawal. -CICERO.</p>
                                   <p>Offermamus Deo pro munere, quod pro debito teneamur reddere.<lb/>
                                        CHRYSOS. Super matth. 10.<lb/>
                                        IN the hope of a better award,<lb/>
                                        Forgetful that Life is a loan;<lb/>
                                        We but offer to God, as reward,<lb/>
                                        The Life which is His-not our own.</p>
                                   <p>OUR Life is taken from us but to give<lb/>
                                        A better life wherewith in Heav'n to live;<lb/>
                                        Unquench'd our Spirit, by our body's death,<lb/>
                                        Rises refresh'd to breathe with purer breath.</p>
                                   <p>THE glories of our blood and state<lb/>
                                        Are shadows, not sunstantial things;<lb/>
                                        There is no armour against fate,<lb/>
                                        Death lays his icy hand on kings:<lb/>
                                        Sceptre and crown<lb/>
                                        Must tumble down,<lb/>
                                        And in the dust be equal made<lb/>
                                        With the poor crooked scythe and spade.-SHIRLEY.</p>
                                   <p>WE spend our years as a tale that is told.-PSALM xc. 9.<lb/>
                                        THE days of years are threescore years and then; and if by reason of strength<lb/>
                                        they be fourscore years, yet is their strength labour and sorrow; for it is soon cut<lb/>
                                        off, and we fly away. -Ibid. 10.   </p>
                                   <pb n="uiuc_83931c29eep_fac136"/>
                                   <p>WHEN first my light did shine, you lik'd me well.<lb/>
                                        Now that is gone; you hate my loathsome smell;<lb/>
                                        You with prolongers made me live, and art<lb/>
                                        Preserv'd my light; but now Time acts his part,<lb/>
                                        Triumphant Time, shewes now my glasse is runne,<lb/>
                                        (What way God knowes) I finde my threed is spunne;<lb/>
                                        Envy hath playd its part, and I doe goe<lb/>
                                        To Coffin, as I doe, all must doe so.<lb/>
                                        Time breaths a shrewd and life-bereaving blast,<lb/>
                                        Yet upward flyes my light, where it shall last.<lb/>
                                        I'me glad to part from body, which I lov'd<lb/>
                                        So deere, that many wayes and arts I prov'd<lb/>
                                        The mudwall to maintaine, and body save,<lb/>
                                        But yet in spight of me 'twill go to grave.<lb/>
                                        This is my comfort, Body, that thy tombe<lb/>
                                        Which is thy grave, shall be thy mothers wombe<lb/>
                                        To bring thee once againe unto the light,<lb/>
                                        And life, which death shall never know, or night:<lb/>
                                        Then be content, though you and I depart:<lb/>
                                        Yet Soule and Body still shall have one heart.-FARLIE'S Emblems.</p>
                              
PREV uiuc_83931c29eep_emblem028b
URL_WEBPAGE http://hdl.handle.net/10111/EmblemRegistry:E019360
PARENT uiuc_83931c29eep
TYPE emblem pictura
TIPE emblempictura
MOTTO_EN_NORM The Ripe Pear Falls Ready to the Hand
NEXT uiuc_83931c29eep_emblem029b
SEQ 
IIHIM UIUC
; EMBLEMS
; ILL_BOOK
CAPTION_EN Cupid gathering ripe pears fallen from a tree
SOURCE_FILE uiuc_83931c29eep.xml
LINK_FACSIMILE uiuc_83931c29eep_fac133
HIM UIUC
; EMBLEMS
; ILL_BOOK
IC 25G21(PEAR)(+362)
; 25G3(PEAR-TREE)(+341)
; 25I3
; 26C
; 31A2331
; 31B6241
; 47I413
; 51FF511(+4)
; 86(MITE PYRUM VEL SPONTE FLUIT)
; 86(THE RIPE PEAR FALLS READY TO THE HAND)
; 92D18(BOW)
; 92D18(QUIVER)
MOTTO_EN <p>THE RIPE PEAR FALLS READY TO THE HAND</p>
                              
URL_IMAGE uiuc_83931c29eep_pic133.jpg
ID uiuc_83931c29eep_emblem029
CHILDREN 
CHILDREN_SQRT 0