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Poem by Thomas Urquhart


Epigrams. The First Booke. ¹ 8. What man it is, that is truly wealthie


Who measures poverty by Natures rules, 
	And frames his mind to what he hath, is rich; 
For we can never doe, but vexe our soules, 
	So long’s we straine them to a higher pitch: 
And hee, whose heart is discontented, is 
But a poore wretch, though all the world were his.



Thomas Urquhart


Thomas Urquhart's other poems:
  1. Epigrams. The Third Booke. ¹ 1. How to behave ones selfe in all occasions
  2. Epigrams. The Second Booke. ¹ 31. As it was a precept of antiquity, to leane more to vertue, then parentage: so is it a tenet of christianity, to repose more trust on the blood of christ, then our owne merits
  3. Epigrams. The Second Booke. ¹ 18. That we ought not to be sorie at the losse of worldly goods
  4. Epigrams. The First Booke. ¹ 25. Vertue, and goodnesse are very much opposed by the selfe-conceit, that many men have of their owne sufficiencie
  5. Epigrams. The First Booke. ¹ 38. How Fortune oftentimes most praeposterously pond'ring the aections of men, with a great deale of injustice bestoweth her favours


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