Lorini, Buonaiuto , Le fortificationi, old version (312 p.), 1609

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            <pb xlink:href="031/01/311.jpg" pagenum="303"/>
            <p type="main">
              <s>AM. </s>
              <s>Vinto dalla ragione, e temperato il dolore, confeſſo eſſer neceſſario per fuggire il timore della
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              morte, mutar la cattiua vita in buona, & non ſtar nel fango, che ſono li vitij, & l'habito fatto nell'of­
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              fendere Iddio, doue ſi viue, come fanno li anima li brutti, e però
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              mutar regiſtro, & prepararſi
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              alla difeſa, per le male opere fatte, & non con l'iſcuſare il fallo, ma con quella penitenza, & pentimen­
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              to che la debolezza, & la fragilità noſtra potrà comportare, farne la penitenza, ſi che il noſtro com­
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              mun nemico perda quelle ragioni, che contro di noi ha acquiſtate, poi che eſſo Poeta ſoggiunge, </s>
            </p>
            <p type="main">
              <s>Però chi di ſuo ſtato cura; ò teme,
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              Proueggia ben, mentr'è l'arbitrio intero
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              Fondare in loco ſtabile ſua ſpeme; </s>
            </p>
            <p type="main">
              <s>AV. </s>
              <s>Et queſto tanto più douemo far noi, con diligenza, quanto che ſiamo di molto a Iddio obliga­
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              ti per le tante gratie ticeuute da quella benigniſſima mano, oltre che ci ritrouiamo in vna età da non
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              perdere più il tempo, & col Poeta dire, </s>
            </p>
            <p type="main">
              <s>E quanto poſſo al fine mi apparecchio
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              Penſando'l breue viuer mio; nel quale,
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              Stamane ero vn fanciullo, & hor ſon vecchio, </s>
            </p>
            <p type="main">
              <s>Che più d'vn giorno è la vita mortale
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              Nubilo, e breue, freddo e pien di noia,
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              Che può bella parer, ma nulla vale; </s>
            </p>
            <p type="main">
              <s>Io per me voglio confeſſarui la verità de' miei trauagli, ne quali ſpeſſo ho detto tra me ſteſſo, quel­
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              o cheeg li ſoggiunge, quaſi biaſiman do la vita, </s>
            </p>
            <p type="main">
              <s>Quanti felici ſon già morti in faſce,
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              Quanti miſeri in vltima vecchiezza.
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              </s>
              <s>Alcun dice; Beato è, chi non naſce, </s>
            </p>
            <p type="main">
              <s>Benche queſto ſia vn modo, che attende al diſperato, & non (come douemo) cioè voler patire per
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              amore del noſtro Creatore, che pur troppo ha patito per noi, poi che naſciamo Chriſtiani, e tanto
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              cari a ſua Diuina Maeſtà, che per farci degni della Celeſte Patria, di Signore ſupremo, sì fece non
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              ſolo ſeruo, ma eſpoſto a tutte le maggior miſerie; e però affatichiamoci, anco più per acquiſtare il
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              Cielo, di quello, che non habbiamo fatto nell'aſſicurare le Fortezze, doue ſi perde ſolo il corpo co­
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              ruttibile, & eſpoſto a tante calamità, & attendiamo (come ſi diſſe) alla ſalute dell'anima per non
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              hauerci poi a dolere di noi ſteſſi, quando il pentimento ſarà del tutto vano, & non ſolo fruſtatorio,
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              ma per augumento di pena, che il Signore Iddio ne guardi, douendoci confidare in lui, & dire con
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              l'iſteſſo Poeta, </s>
            </p>
            <p type="main">
              <s>Ma tarde non fur mal gratle diuine;
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              In quelle ſpero, ch'in me ancor faranno
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              Alte operationi, e pellegrine, </s>
            </p>
            <p type="main">
              <s>E con queſti penſieri, e deſideri, conſolate voi ſteſſo in queſta perdita del fratello, riconoſendo il tut­
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              to dal voler d'Iddio. </s>
              <s>AM. </s>
              <s>Reſto conſolato dalle voſtre parole, che ſono da vero amico, & mi
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              quieto in tutto quello, che piace à ſua Diuina Maeſtà; e perche conuiene che io mi prepari per tor­
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              narmene a Fiorenza, doue vengo chiamato, ſia quì il fine de' noſtri ragionamenti, de quali procu­
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              rerò tenere freſca memoria, e maſſime di queſti vltimamente fatti, e coſi ſpero che anco farete voi, e
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              forſe quelli, che leggeranno queſti voſtri ſcritti, acciò che il Signore Iddio ſia ſempre laudato. </s>
            </p>
            <p type="head">
              <s>Il fine del Seſto, & vltimo Libro.</s>
            </p>
          </chap>
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