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How happy is he born and taught
That serveth not another's will ;
Whose armour is his honest thought,
And simple truth his utmost skill !
Whose passions not his masters are ;
Whose soul is still prepared for death,
Untied unto the world by care
Of public fame or private breath;
Who envies none that chance doth raise,
Nor vice ; who never understood
How deepest wounds are given by praise ;
Nor rules of state, but rules of good;
Who hath his life from rumours freed;
Whose conscience is his strong retreat;
Whose state can neither flatterers feed,
Nor ruin make oppressors great;
Who God doth late and early pray
More of His grace than gifts to lend;
And entertains the harmless day
With a religious book or friend ;

-This man is freed from servile bands
Of hope to rise or fear to fall :
Lord of himself, though not of lands,
And having nothing, yet hath all.





My mind to me a kingdom is;

Such present joys therein I find, That it excels all other bliss

That earth affords or grows by kind : Though much I want that most would have, Yet still my mind forbids to crave.

No princely pomp, no wealthy store,

No force to win the victory,
No wily wit to salve a sore,

No shape to feed a loving eye;
To none of these I yield as thrall;
For why? my mind doth serve for all.

I see how plenty surfeits oft,

And hasty climbers soon do fall; I see that those which are aloft

Mishap doth threaten most of all : They get with toil, they keep with fear: Such cares my mind could never bear.

Content I live, this is my stay ;

I seek no more than may suffice;
I press to bear no haughty sway;

Look, what I lack my mind supplies.
Lo, thus I triumph like a king,
Content with that my mind doth bring.


Some have too much, yet still do crave;

I little have, and seek no more. They are but poor, though much they have,

And I am rich with little store; They poor, I rich; they beg, I give; They lack, I leave; they pine, I live.

I laugh not at another's loss,

I grudge not at another's gain;
No worldly waves my mind can toss ;

My state at one doth still remain :
I fear no foe, I fawn no friend;
I loathe not life, nor dread my end.

of will ;

Some weigh their pleasure by their lust,

Their wisdom by their rage
Their treasure is their only trust,

A cloaked craft their store of skill :
But all the pleasure that I find
Is to maintain a quiet mind.

My wealth is health and perfect ease,

My conscience clear my chief defence; I neither seek by bribes to please,

Nor by deceit to breed offence : Thus do I live; thus will I die; Would all did so as well as I !




It is not growing like a tree,

In bulk, doth make man better be;
Or standing long an oak, three hundred year,
To fall a log at last, dry, bald and sere :

A lily of a day

Is fairer far in May:
Although it fall and die that night,

It was the plant and flower of light.
In small proportions we just beauties see;
And in short measures life may perfect be.

B. Jonson.

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Deeds from love, and words, that flow,

Foster like kind April showers;
In the warm sun all things grow,

Wholesome fruits and pleasant flowers:
All so thrives his gentle rays
Whereon human love displays.

T. Campion.



The man of life upright,

Whose guiltless heart is free From all dishonest deeds,

Or thought of vanity; The man whose silent days

In harmless joys are spent, Whom hopes cannot delude,

Nor sorrow discontent;

That man needs neither towers

Nor armour for defence, Nor secret vaults to fly

From thunder's violence :

He only can behold

With unaffrighted eyes The horrors of the deep

And terrors of the skies.

Thus, scorning all the cares

That fate or fortune brings, He makes the heaven his book,

His wisdom heavenly things;
Good thoughts his only friends,

His wealth a well-spent age,
The earth his sober inn
And quiet pilgrimage.

T. Campion.

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