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Poem by Thomas Urquhart
Epigrams. The First Booke. № 34. That wee ought not to be excessively grieved at the losse of any thing, that is in the power of Fortune
ALL those externall ornaments of health, Strength, honour, children, beauty, friends, & wealth Are for a while concredited to men, To decke the Theater, whereon the scene Of their fraile life is to be acted: some Of which must (without further) be brought home To day, and some to morrow; th'use of them Being onely theirs, till new occasions claime A restitution of them all againe, As time thinkes fit, to whom they appertaine; Though such like things therefore be taken from us, Wee should not suffer griefe to overcome us: But rather render thankes, they have beene lent us So long a space, and never discontent us.
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