Men pray for eloquence, strength, wealth, and thus invite their own ruin upon themselves (1–27). Well might Democritus and Heraclitus in this vanity of human wishes find matter, the one for laughter, the other for tears (28–53). For what may we pray (54–5)? Vaulting ambition o'erleaps itself: witness Seianus, Crassus, Pompeius, Caesar (56–113). The schoolboy envies the eloquence of Demosthenes and Cicero; yet it had been well for Cicero, if he had only been known as the meanest of poets: for Demosthenes, if he had never left his father's smithy (114–132). How passing is military glory, and how uncertain military power, appears in Hannibal and Xerxes; Alexander, for whom the world was all too strait, found rest at last in an urn (133–187). Length of days does but bring decay of body and mind. Peleus and Nestor, had they died early, would not have mourned the loss of Achilles and of Antilochus. Priam, Hecuba, Croesus, Mithridates, Marius, Pompeius were spared to their own hurt (188–288). Beauty is dangerous even to the chaste; example of Silius (289–345). Leave to the gods, who know what is best for you, to order your lot as they will: pray only for health of mind and body, that you may bravely bear the worst (346–365).