Theater of Insects

...I mean the book-eating moths, those beasts most inimical to the Muses and their students, which, with a voracious belly and iron teeth (even though they are quite tiny of body), devour the studies of whole centuries. May the angry nature of the worst of all things banish these evil beasts! This book (which I send to you as a mnēmosynon memorial/token of my love) will teach you in its own chapter how to prevent their propagation and kill their infamous progeny (meanwhile, while learned writers of books or diligent collectors will attempt to abolish the species entirely). But enough; a pitcher began to be fashioned, why does a jar emerge on the running wheel? The ardor of benevolence and the fertility of the subject carry me away: my hand must be removed from the table, lest the letter, which has already carelessly grown into a volume, absurdly extend into the infinite. Believe that I am devoted to you, and may these lines, written for your sake, speak of how well I wish for you and desire [for you]. I pray from the heart that you may finish the remainder of the days set for you by God to run the race of your life—before you receive the celestial brabeion prize/crown—with tranquility of mind and body, and to speak with Aristotle writing his testament, that here for a longer time estō men eu : ean de ti symbainē it may be well; but if anything should happen, may you reach the port of the blessed with a happy outcome at the moment decreed for you.

Farewell. From my Museum on the Ides of May, in the year of repaired human salvation, 1634.

A large, ornate typographic tailpiece features symmetrical scrollwork, leafy flourishes, and floral patterns arranged in a triangular shape tapering toward the bottom.