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Poem by Thomas Urquhart
Epigrams. The Third Booke. № 7. To one, who seemed to be grievously discontented with his poverty
LEt never want of money vexe your braine; Seeing all contentment is in th'only mind, To the which mony doth no more pertaine, Then to the Hierarchies of Angel-kind: Thus Gold being Earthly, and the mind sublime: T'abase your spirit, is a sort of crime.
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