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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.



Thomas Urquhart


Thomas Urquhart's other poems:
  1. Epigrams. The Second Booke. № 30. That the setled quiet of our mind ought not to be moved at sinister accidents
  2. Epigrams. The First Booke. № 33. The onely true progresse to a blessed life
  3. Epigrams. The Second Booke. № 42. The deserved mutability in the condition of too ambitious men
  4. Epigrams. The Third Booke. № 33. Why our thoughts, all the while we are in this tran∣sitory world, from the houre of our nativity, to the laying downe of our bodies in the grave, should not at any time exspaciat themselves in the broad way of destruction
  5. Epigrams. The First Booke. № 20. Of Negative, and Positive good


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