alty? what of the rest?

Yea, but you will infer, that is true of heathens, if they be conferred
with Christians, 1 Cor. iii. 19. "The wisdom of this world is foolishness
with God, earthly and devilish," as James calls it, iii. 15. "They were
vain in their imaginations, and their foolish heart was full of darkness,"
Rom. i. 21, 22. "When they professed themselves wise, became fools." Their
witty works are admired here on earth, whilst their souls are tormented in
hell fire. In some sense, _Christiani Crassiani_, Christians are Crassians,
and if compared to that wisdom, no better than fools. _Quis est sapiens?
Solus Deus_, [211]Pythagoras replies, "God is only wise," Rom. xvi. Paul
determines "only good," as Austin well contends, "and no man living can be
justified in his sight." "God looked down from heaven upon the children of
men, to see if any did understand," Psalm liii. 2, 3, but all are corrupt,
err. Rom. iii. 12, "None doeth good, no, not one." Job aggravates this, iv.
18, "Behold he found no steadfastness in his servants, and laid folly upon
his angels;" 19. "How much more on them that dwell in houses of clay?" In
this sense we are all fools, and the [212]Scripture alone is _arx
Minervae_, we and our writings are shallow and imperfect. But I do not so
mean; even in our ordinary dealings we are no better than fools. "All our
actions," as [213]Pliny told Trajan, "upbraid us of folly," our whole
course of life is but matter of laughter: we are not soberly wise; and the
world itself, which ought at least to be wise by reason of his antiquity,
as [214]Hugo de Prato Florido will have it, "_semper stultizat_, is every
day more foolish than other; the more it is whipped, the worse it is, and
as a child will still be crowned with roses and flowers." We are apish in
it, _asini bipedes_, and every place is full _inversorum Apuleiorum_ of
metamorphosed and two-legged asses, _inversorum Silenorum_, childish,
_pueri instar bimuli, tremula patris dormientis in ulna_. Jovianus
Pontanus, Antonio Dial, brings in some laughing at an old man, that by
reason of his age was a little fond, but as he admonisheth there, _Ne
mireris mi hospes de hoc sene_, marvel not at him only, for _tota haec
civitas delirium_, all our town dotes in like sort, [215]we are a company
of fools. Ask not with him in the poet, [216]_Larvae hunc intemperiae
insaniaeque agitant senem_? What madness ghosts this old man, but what
madness ghosts us all? For we are